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Division 


Section 


'iru  to  >/■  ■      own 


A    ROMAUNT, 


WITH 


LAY  S, 


MEDITATIVE    AND    DEVOTIONAL, 




BY 

THE    AUTHOR    OF    "  CHRISTIAN  BALLADS." 


HARTFORD: 
H.     S.    PARSONS 
1845. 


Entered  according'  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844,  by 

H.    S.    PARSONS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


Stereotyped  by 

RICHARD  H.  HOBBS, 

Hartford,  Conn. 

Printed  by 
CASE,  TIFFANY  AND  BURNHAM, 
Hartford,  Conn. 


PREFACE 


Halloween  has  been  printed,  though  never  pim- 
lishfHl  before.  In  the  winter  of  1842  I  had  a  private 
edition,  of  fifty  copies,  struck  off  for  my  friends. 
These  have  been  ireely  loaned  and  circulated,  till 
the  book  has  been  enquired  for  by  strangers,  at  my 
bookseller's  ;  and  at  his  instance,  I  now  allow  it  to 
appear.  Though  I  had  not  intended  this,  and  for 
many  private  reasons  rather  disliked  the  idea  of 
making  it  public  ;  I  suppose,  on  the  whole,  that  it 
will  be  better  to  publish  it  now,  than  in  after  life, 
and  to  edit  it  myself,  than  to  leave  it  to  a  survivor. 

A  curious  incident  suggested  this  little  poem.  It 
was  writren  when  I  was  but  twenty.  The  same 
theme  would  now  inspire  a  very  different  strain  ; 
and  I  can  approve  it  only  as  a  true  exhibition  of  the 
manifold  emotions  at  work,  in  a  mind  disposed  to 
be  religious,  at  that  period  of  life  when  the  world 
entices  most,  and  character  is  yet  fervid  and  un- 
stamped.    I  am  willing  to  make  it  public,  therefore. 


4  PREFACE. 

if  the  gentle  few,  who  have  heretofore  been  my  pub- 
lic, will  vouchsafe  to  consider  it  only  in  reference 
to  its  place,  between  the  trifles  T  have  written  be- 
fore and  after  it.  In  its  proper  position  I  think  its 
effect  will  be  happy  ;  for  it  is  a  favorite  habit  of 
mine  to  regard  all  that  an  author  publishes,  as  his 
only  complete  work  ;  in  which,  if  he  be  a  poet,  the 
several  parts  will  bear  but  the  proportion  of  a  stanza 
or  a  canto.  I  think  this  is  an  ennobling  view  to 
take  of  any  writer  ;  but  a  profitable  one  especially, 
where  authors  have  written  much,  and  ventured 
often  before  the  world,  while  their  opinions  were 
in  a  state  of  progress  and  transition.  By  such  a 
rule,  I  hope  my  own  friends  will  judge  whatever  I 
have  already,  or  may  hereafter,  put  forth.  I  should 
be  sorry  if  Politiano's  experience  were  not  always 
mine,  with  regard  to  all  I  have  yet  published  : 

Dum  relego  scripsisse  pudet ;  quia  plurima  cerno, 
Me  quoque,  qui  feci,  judice,  digna  lini. 

A.  C.  C. 

St.  John's  Rectory,  Hartford, 
May,  1844. 


HALLOWEEN. 


TO    A    LADY. 


I. 

If  souls,  once  more,  to  these  their  haunts  on  earth, 

Can  come,  dear  Lady,  from  the  Spirit-land, 
1  ask'd  thee,— would  it  spoil  thine  hour  of  mirth, 

To  see  some  sudden  shape  before  thee  stand  ! 

And  a  cold  shudder  told  me,  and  thine  hand 
Press'd  dearer  to  mine  own.     But  then  said  1, 

Oh  !  if  thy  friend  were  dead,  and  could  command 
Some  midnight  hour  to  visit  thee  ;  reply, 
Say,  would  it  grieve  thee,  Love,  if  love  could  never  die ! 


II. 


I  have  been  roaming  in  that  Spirit-world, 
And  still  my  deathless  love  return'd  to  thee: 

And  still  thy  brow,  thy  locks  in  lustre  curl'd, 
And  thy  dear  eye  of  beauty  shone  on  me  : 
And  thou,  my  guardian  angel,  changelessly, 

Though  all  abandon'd,  still  wouldst  leave  me  not! 
And  then  I  thought,  if  e'er  an  hour  should  be, 

When  my  poor  soul  might  leave  that  rayless  spot, 

Thee  would  my  spirit  seek,  forgetless,  unforgoL 


HALLOWEEN. 


HI. 


Fear  not,  dear  Lady,  if  my  voice  to  thee, 

Sounds  then  thus  sadly,  from  the  Spirit-land; 
The  dream  is  o'er  that  then  unhearted  me, 

And  I  in  living  shape  before  thee  stand. 

But  take  my  story  in  thy  lily  hand, 
And  in  some  hour  when  sadness  were  not  sad, 

Let  these  loose  numbers  by  thine  eye  be  seann'd  . 
Learn  what  deep  sorrows  in  my  heart  I  had, 
When  1  was  far  from  thee,  and  all  that 's  bright  and  glad. 


ddavarag  iSiag  eiriScoueOa 

Aristophanes.     Clouds.  286. 


I. 

I  have  been  near  the  gates  of  death, 

And  thought  I  passed  them  thro' ; 
Ev'n  now  my  spirit  quivereth, 

To  think  of  where  it  flew  ! 
Oh  it  was  hard  to  yield  my  breath  ; 

'Twas  hard  to  breathe  anew; 
It  was  hard  to  come  to  life  again, 

And  Earth  once  more  to  view ! 
To  wake,  and  find  'twas  all  in  vain, 

The  death-pang  and  adieu! 


HALLOWEEN*.  / 

II. 

Many  there  be  who  die  in  throes, 

And  groans,  and  fearful  anguish : 
x\nd  there  be  those,  who  waste  in  woes  ; 

And  many  there  be  who  languish ; 
But  few  there  be,  who  die  like  me, 

Then  wake  again  to  sorrow  ; 
Who  strive  with  death,  and  feel  them  free, 

But  are  bound  again  to-morrow; 
Who  wrestle  through  all  its  agony, 
And  strive  no  more  in  its  chains  to  be, 
But  are  born  again  to  misery, 

In  the  dying  years  they  borrow. 

III. 

I  have  been  near  the  gates  of  death, 

And  know  'tis  hard  to  die  ; 
That  the  mortal  flesh  it  shuddereth 

In  the  spell  of  death  to  lie  : 
That  fearful  it  is — the  ebbing  breath ; 

And  awful — the  closing  eye, 
When  powerless  all,  it  curtaineth 

The  soul,  from  its  loved  ones  by  ; 
When  it  closeth  slow  o'er  the  leaden  gaze, 
That  wraps,  like  the  mariner's  home,  in  a  haze, 

The  dear  ones  that  comfort  us  nigh. 


8 


HALLOWEEN. 


IV. 

'Tis  awful, — the  hour  when  death  comes  on, 

When  the  voice  of  cheer  or  wail  is  gone; 

To  feel  the  lip  o'er  the  dry  tooth  ope, 

To  catch  half  a  ray  through  the  eyelid's  scope, 

Then  shudder,  though  powerless  all,  to  feel 

The  frost  o'er  the  glazing  orbs  congeal, 

When  the  breath  grows  low,  and  the  heart  is 

chill', 
Though  the  blood  creeps  ghostlike  around  it  still, 
And  to  gasp  a  moment,  and  straggle,  and  try 
To  yield  the  starved  spirit, — and  groan, — and 

die, 
And  still  to  flicker  a  dying  hoar, 
When  life  still  hovers,  and  seems  to  lower, 
Though  voice  hath  no  spell,  and  the  pulse  no 


power 


V. 


I  tell  ye  the  story  this  chill  Halloween, 

For  it  suiteth  the  Spirit-eve  ; 
But  my  trance  was  in  Spring-time,  when  trees 
were  green, 

And  the  hedgerows  began  to  leave  : 

When  the  blossom  put  forth,  and  the  year  was 
new  : 

When  Earth  was  so  lovely — to  bid  it  adieu 


HALLOWEEN.  U 

Seem'd  doubly  to  die  ! — and  I  thought  while  I 

drew 
My  death  gasp,  I  scarcely  could  grieve 
To  die  in  the  Autumn,  when  leaves  come  down ; 
When  the  shadows  are  gone  from  the  wilderness 

brown, 
When  the  flowret  droops,  and  the  glories  that 

crown 
The  hill-top,  like  hopes  that  deceive  : 
Bat  to  die  in  Spring, — the  joyous  Spring  ! 
The  dear  young  year,  when  Hope  hath  a  wing  ! 
To    die    amid    blossoms, — the  season's   sweet 

prime ; 
To  go  ere  the  summer ;  to  fade  in  the  time 
When  Earth  waketh   up   at   the    Easter-bell's 

chime, 
And   dresseth  her  green,   and   decketh  her 

sward, 
Like  virgins,  that  early  awaited  the  Lord, 
On  the  morn  of  his  waking  sublime  ! 
Oh,  to  die  in  the  Spring-time, — the  young  joy- 
ous Spring, 
When  scarce  have  outbudded  the  sprigs  that 

they  fling 
In  the  cold  bed  they  hallow  : — when  forest  birds 

sing 


10 


HALLOWEEN. 


Their  wood-notes  too  gaily  for  requiem  due 
Oh,  this  did  appal  me,  as  soulless  I  grew ! 

VI. 

The  Autumn  wind — oh  hear  it  howl ! 
Without — October's  tempests  scow], 
As  he  troops  away  on  the  raving  wind  ! 
And  leaveth  dry  leaves  in  his  path  behind ! 
Without — without, 
Oh  hear  him  shout, 
He  is  making  the  old  trees  bare ; 
Oh  cruel,  he, 
To  the  old  oak  tree, 
And  the  garden  hedge  so  fair ! 
Oh,  a  wild  and  tyrannous  king  is  he, 
When  he  playeth  his  frolic  in  every  tree, 
And  maketh  the  forest  bare  ! 

VII. 

I  know  that  a  tyrannous  rod  is  his, 
When  he  maketh  the  forest  bow  ; 
But  worse,  far  worse  are  his  tyrannies, 
For  he  tameth  the  spirit  now  ! 
Without — without, 
Oh  hear  him  shout, 

October  is  going  away  ! 


HALLOWEEN.  H 


'Tis  the  night — the  night 
Of  the  grave's  delight, 

And  the  warlocks  are  at  their  play ! 
Ye  think  that  without, 
The  wild  winds  shout, 

But  no,  it  is  they — it  is  they  ! 

VIII. 

The  spirits  are  pulling  the  sere  dry  leaves, 

Of  the  shadowy  forest,  down; 
And  howl   the  gaunt   reapers    that  gather   the 
sheaves, 

With  the  moon,  o'er  their  revels,  to  frown  : 
To-morrow  ye  '11  find  all  their  spoils  in  your  path, 

And  ye  '11  speak  of  the  wind  and  the  sky  ; 
But  oh  could  ye  see  them  to-night,  in  their  wrath, 

1  ween  ye'd  be  frenzied  of  eye  ! 

IX. 

There  is  a  world  in  which  we  dwell ; 

And  yet  a  world  invisible  ! 

And  do  not  think  that  naught  can  be, 

Save  only  what  with  eyes  ye  see  ; 

I  tell  ye,  that,  this  very  hour, 

Had  but  your  sight  a  spirit's  power, 

Ye  would  be  looking,  eye  to  eye, 

At  a  terrific  company  ! 


12 


HALLOWEEN. 


A  thousand  shapes  are  at  your  side, 

A  thousand  by  your  bed  abide, 

A  thousand,  hellish  demon  sprites, 

That  bend  ye  to  their  foul  delights  ; 

And  ye  are,  every  day,  the  hand, 

The  tool  of  an  infernal  band, 

That  with  you  dwell, — are  one  with  you, 

And  govern  ye  in  all  ye  do, 

Save,  when  ye  live  in  prayer,  or  hear 

A  silent  whisper  in  your  ear, 

From  one, — your  friend  in  heav'n  and  earth, 

The  guardian  angel  of  your  birth. 

X. 

Bear  with  me,  while  in  sooth  I  tell 

How  mine  own  eye  was  purged,  to  see 
A  strange  and  awful  miracle, 

The  haunted  deep  of  Destiny. 
Ah  me,  I  know  the  story  well ! 

And  I  was  once  as  blithe  as  ye  ; 
But  one  whose  soul  hath  been  in  Hell, 

Ev'n  in  a  dream,  must  sadden'd  be. 


XI. 


I  have  been  near  the  gates  of  death, 
And  I,  once  more,  must  there  appear; 


HALLOWEEN1. 


13 


But,  Lord,  make  sure  thy  servant's  faith, 

To  walk  that  shadow-vale  of  fear  ! 
For  thou  hast  spoil'd  the  pang,  the  sting 

Of  death  and  hell  so  fierce  before, 
Led  captive  in  thy  triumphing, 

Thy  conquest  of  the  Conqueror  ; 
And  Faith  but  waits  thy  bidding  word, 

Thy  spirit  walking  on  the  sea, 
To  leap,  like  Peter  to  his  Lord, 

And  pass  the  roaring  floods  to  Thee  ; 
For  raging  waves  can  never  tame, 

Nor  midnight  dark,  nor  storms,  confound 
The  soul  that  burns  like  naptha-flame, 

The  brighter  for  the  waters  round. 


XII. 
Oh  Death  !  they  do  thee  cruel  wrong, 
Who  call  thee  fearful  names  in  song, 
Or  on  the  blackened  canvas,  throw 
Thy  shape,  in  awfulness  and  woe. 
They  sin,  who  paint  thee  fearful  shade, 
A  devil-shape,  in  shroud  array'd, 
With  arrows  in  thy  bony  hand, 
And  shaking  aye  the  sinner's  sand, 
With  felon  grin,  and  demon  leer, 
Till  Nature  feels  thy  venom'd  spear. 


14  HALLOWKKN. 


XIII. 


For  oft,  as  with  a  seraph's  smile, 
Thou  dost  the  happy  soul  beguile, 
And  charm  away,  from  darkest  scene, 
To  homes  of  endless  day  serene, 
Above  the  world, — no  more  to  sigh 
For  realms  where  never  more  they  die ; 
In  worlds,  to  us  poor  earthlings,  known 
By  thee,  kind  Death, — by  death  alone. 

XIV. 

But  not  to  me  came  death  so  bright, 
Fori  had  iov'd  the  world's  delight ; 
And  oh  to  leave  what  only  charm'd  me, 
To  go  with  Death — that  had  disarm'd  me, 
And  dragg'd  me,  loth  to  part,  and  fain 
To  struggle  back  to  bonds  again  ; 
'Twas  very  hard — 'twas  very  dread  ! 
But  from  my  couch,  I  rais'd  my  head, 
And  op'd  mine  eyes,  to  look  once  more 
On  what,  for  me,  should  soon  be  o'er, 
And  then  I  said — or  thought,  or  seem'd 
To  be  repeating,  while  I  dream'd 
Awaj'"  my  ebbing  hour  of  breath — 
To  leave  this  all,  oh  this  is  death ! 


HALLOWEEN.  15 

XV. 

My  couch  was  by  a  lattic'd  door, 

With  diamond  panes,  of  olden  making, 

That  open'd  on  a  garden  floor 

Of  pebbled  paths,  and  flower-beds,  waking 

Bright  as  the  year,  to  glad  the  Earth 

And  glory  in  their  brilliant  birth. 

XVI. 

I  cast  mine  eye  athwart  the  scene, 
And  blest  the  soul-reviving  green ; 
And  must  I  go  away,  and  must 
This  eye  that  doateth  turn  to  dust  ? 
Ye  pleasant  flowers,  I  said,  when  ye 
Have  turn'd  to  fruit,  oh  where  shall  be 
The  sight  that  sees  ye,  loves  you,  now, 
And  blesses  ye  with  fervent  vow  ! 
Though  all  the  while  'tis  growing  dim, 
And  blooms  your  beauty — not  for  him  ! 

xv  n. 

This  eye  hath  but  an  hour  to  serve, 
And  its  fine  work  is  broke  forever ; 

The  worm  shall  gnaw  its  tender  nerve, 
And  blessed  light  illume  it  never. 


16  HALLOWEEN. 

A  moment  more — and  all  is  dark  ; 

This  orb,  that  beauteous  shapes  have  bright- 
en'd, 
And  lighted  like  a  diamond  spark, 

Shall  palsy,  ne'er  to  be  enlighten'd  ! 

XVIII. 
Then  my  last  look  shall  be  at  you, 

Ye  blessed  things  that  still  I  cherish  ; 
'Tis  well  the  latest  things  I  view, 

Should  charm  me,  even  as  I  perish  ! 
Farewell,  farewell ;  life's  dream  is  going  ; 

And  I  shall  wake  to  deathless  years  : 
But  oh  ye  flowers,  so  sweetly  blowing, 

How  can  I  leave  you  but  with  tears  ! 

XIX- 

I  learn'd  to  love  ye  on  the  knee 
Of  a  fair  nurse,  in  infancy, 
Who  taught  me,  with  a  lip  as  sweet 
As  rose-buds,  your  perfume  to  greet, 
And  clap  my  little  hands  with  joy, 
When  she  gave  lilies  to  her  boy. 
Oh  little  flowers  !  in  boyhood  too 
I  held  sweet  dalliance  with  you, 
And  in  my  earliest  passion's  hour, 
Could  only  call  my  love  a  flower. 


HALLOWEEN.  17 

Oh  then  the  starry  jessamine, 

I  pull'd  the  garden  walks  within, 

And  romp'd  around,  from  plot  to  plot, 

Reaping,  where  I  had  strewed  not, 

All  hues  and  odours  ;  wild  with  glee, 

So  boldly  mischievous  to  be  ; 

And  laughing  when  they  strove  to  catch, 

Or  failing,  begg'd  me  not  to  snatch ; 

For  I  had  e'er  a  lover's  eye, 

And  flowers  were  lovely  company  ! 

A  very  bacchanal  of  heart-; 

And  nature-taught  in  pleasure's  art, 

A  young  Anacreon  in  my  glee, 

Beneath  the  rose-bush  tossing  me, 

And  more, — a  very  rogue,  was  1, 

A  pig  from  Epicurus'  stye ; 

And  so  my  bosom  would  J  fill 

With  lily,  pink,  and  daffodil, 

And  gallop  back,  my  treasures  folding, 

And  bold  of  heart  to  bear  a  scolding, 

My  head  enwreath'd  from  ear  to  ear, 

And  Duke,  my  spaniel,  prancing  near. 

XX. 

Dear  happy  days,  forever  fled, 
I  too  must  wither,  and  be  dead. 


18 


HALLOWEEN. 


I  too  must  droop  ;  oh  bear  me  up  ! 

A  look  shall  be  my  cordial  cup  ! 

Ah  this  is  my  last  glance  : — nay,  this  ! 

I  feel  an  awful  dizziness  ! 

Fling  wide  the  casement — let  me  see 

The  last  dear  day-light  fade  on  me  ! 

Oh — and  the  breezes  let  me  smell  ; 

I  know  the  scent  of  Spring-time  well ! 

And  there  's  a  little  songster  winging  ; 

And  hark,  'tis  Robin  Red-breast  singing! 
And  there  the  glorious  sun  goes  down  ! 

My  life's  last  sun  !  oh  hold  ;  oh  why 
So  hasten  o'er  the  woodlands  brown, 

And  leave  me  in  the  dark  to  die  ! 
Would  God  !  that  mountain  were  away, 

So  I  might  see  the  sunset  longer  ! 
Stop,  stop  ! — ah  naught  can  stop  the  Day  ; 

And  yet  mine  agony  grows  stronger ! 
Oh  see  how  fast  his  golden  ray 

Sinks — sinks  !  I  'm  sure,  before,  it  never 
Went  half  so  fast !   Stay,  stay,  oh  stay  ! 

Ah  there  'tis  going  ! — gone  forever  ! 


XXI. 


It  sunk  :  I  swoon'd  :  a  pang — 'twas  over  ! 
Nay,  nay,  for  still  my  life  would  hover  : 


HALLOWEEN.  19 

The  dying  lamp  would  flicker — flicker, 

Though  breath  was  low,  and  sight  was  thicker. 

And  I  was  going,  going  slowly, 

My  heart  unshrived,  my  soul  unholy, 

The  sins  of  mis-spent  years  upon  me, 

And  foilies  that  had  all  undone  me  ! 

And  this  I  knew  not — for  'twas  awful, 

How  I  was  fill'd  with  thougths  unlawful ; 

Thoughts  that  did  make  me  all  forget 

What  I  had  left  for  dying  minute  ; 
And  I  was  dying,  dying,  yet 

Forgot  that  endless  death  was  in  it. 

XXII. 

I  slept ;  but  yet  I  was  not  dead 

For  breath  still  fluttered  nigh  ; 
And  now,  a  strain  of  music  shed, 

Came  mournful  as  a  sigh  ! 
Was  it  some  spirit's  harp  I  heard, 

Far  in  the  land  of  dreams  ? 
Was  it  the  song  of  Eden's  bird? 

Was  it  the  lull  of  streams  ? 
What  was  it  ?  for  I  did  not  know 

But  'twas  an  angel  band 
Come  down,  to  bear  me  from  below, 

Up  to  the  Spirit-land  ! 


20 


HALLOWEEN. 


It  murmur'd — rose — swell'd  high  and  clear 
Then  sunk,  and  sunk  away,  like  Fear 
Holding  her  breath.     Again,  it  swell'd! 
I  thought  some  fairy's  death-peal  knell'd. 

XXIII. 

It  was  a  wind-harp's  magic  strong, 
Mov'd  by  the  breeze  in  dreamy  song ; 
But  I  was  gone  too  far  to  know 
What  stirr'd  my  troubled  spirit  so, 
And  in  my  fancy,  came  a  flood 
Of  visions,  strange  to  flesh  and  blood, 
And  nameless  shapes  that  hover'd  round  ; 
Such  wras  the  wizard  power  of  sound ! 


XXIV. 

Methought  all  lovely  forms  were  nigh, 
And  Beauty,  with  a  tearful  eye 
Dewing  the  couch  where  I  lay  to  die, 

And  singing  my  soul  away. 
And  I  said,  fair  beings,  'tis  well  ye  know, 
And  the  soul  of  a  poet  would  have  it  so, 
The  lovely  have  been  my  friends  below, 
And  a  soul  of  song,  in  a  song  should  go 

To  the  world  where  they  sing  for  aye. 


HALLOWEEN.  21 

XXV. 

And  their  fairy  fingers  were  fain  to  play  : 

But  I  was  a-going,  and  gone  too  far 
To  listen  them  longer,  as  there  I  lay, 

Though  each  was  as  lovely  as  angels  are. 
And  each  had  locks,  like  the  beamy  light, 

And  lips  like  the  crimson  wine, 
And  eyes,  like  the  stars  of  the  morning,  bright, 

Or  the  diamond's  spark  divine. 

XXVI. 

But  one  glance  more — one  wilder'd  sight, 

And  I  closed  my  eye  on  all  delight  : 

One  hasty  glance — and  I  never  knew 

Whence  was  the  music  that  thrili'd  me  through  ; 

My  ear  but  caught  one  fading  strain, 

And  then  it  was  seal'd :  but  it  rung  again 

With  a  deathlike,  piercing,  frosty  pain  : 

And  o'er  each  limb  did  numbness  creep, 

As  steals  o'er  the  muscles  the  prickly  sleep  : 

And  death  came  on  me  :  my  breath  but  press'd 

In  a  struggling  gasp,  from  half  my  breast ; 

And  a  falling,  falling,  falling  feeling, 

And  dark  oblivion  o'er  me  stealing, 

And  a  hand  that  press'd  me  down,  below 

The  deepest  depth  of  some  ocean's  flow, 


22  HALLOWEEN. 

And  a  struggle  long,  and  a  struggle  dread, 
And  a  frantic  wrench  to  raise  my  head, 
And  a  throttled  gasp,  and  a  quenching  breath, 
And  a  struggle — is  all  I  know  of  death. 

XXVII. 

'Twas  over  !  But  then  my  death  began  ; 

I  was  a  disembodied  man  ! 

Blind,  and  alone,  and  alive — but  where  ! 

I   was  falling,  and  floating,  and  flitting  through 

air ; 
There  was  darkness  here,  there  was  darkness 
there  ; 

Oh  where  was  I,  poor  soul ! 
I  had  never  a  voice,  and  never  a  tongue, 
And  I  felt  no  limbs,  but  still  I  was  flung 
In  the  darksome  deep  that  around  me  hung, 

And  that  seem'd  to  have  never  a  goal. 

XXVIII. 

Alone,  alone  ;  in  the  deep  alone, 
Of  an  awful,  soulless  world  unknown  ! 
And  there  was  I — but  I  could  still 
Think  of  such  thoughts,  as  us'd  to  fill 
Mine  eyes  with  tears  :  and  tears  had  then 
Been  sweet  as  sunlight  seen  again. 


HALLOWEEN.  23 

But  tears  were  none,  and  never  an  eye 
Save  the  quenchless  sight  of  memory. 

XXIX. 

The  thoughts  of  joys  our  childhood  gave, 
Like  flowers  upon  a  mother's  grave, 
How  laden  comes  their  sad  perfume 
With  all  that  hath  inspired  their  bloom  ! 
The  dear  beloved — the  only  fair, 
Our  heart's  best  part  is  mould'ring  there  ; 
And  thoughts  that  blossom  from  the  urn, 
Are  dust,  and  unto  dust  return. 

XXX. 

The  breeze  that  o'er  that  mother's  tomb 

Comes  idly,  as  to  garden-beds, 
Is  sober'd  by  the  flowers'  perfume, 

And  sadness,  all  around,  it  sheds. 
The  very  grass  it  stirs  to  life, 
Doth  seem  with  old  remembrance  rife, 
And  every  blade  instinct,  doth  move 
To  wake  the  tenderness  of  love. 
'Tis  then,  that  as  they  wave  and  nod, 
And  shiver  o'er  the  daisied  sod, 
They  seem,  profanely,  not  to  know 
The  holy  head  that  sleeps  below  ; 


24  HALLOWEEN. 

And  lovely  though  their  petals  be, 
Their  loveliness  is  agony. 

XXXI. 

How  awful  was  my  memory,  then, 
Of  hours  when  I  abode  with  men  : 
When  rose  my  clouded  soul  within 
The  pictur'd  world,  where  I  had  been : 
"When  all  delights  that.  I  had  known, 
Came  back,  because  forever  flown  : 
When  blew  their  fragrance  o'er  my  sense, 

With  sorrow's  fullness  in  their  flavour, 
And  all  the  silent  eloquence 

Of  a  remembered  savour. 

XXXII. 

I  heard  the  sound  of  coming  wings  ; 

'Twas  dark  as  the  second  death, 
But  I  could  see  a  thousand  things, 

For  I  heard  a  being's  breath  : 
A  whisper — a  sigh — was  here — was  there, 

For  darkness  is  Fancy's  light  : 
And  horrible  phantoms  were  filling  the  air, 

For  I  heard  the  low  stroke  of  their  flight. 
Oh  should  they  touch  me  ! 
Or  oh  should  they  clutch  me  ! 

How  shrunk  my  poor  soul  in  its  fright ! 


HALLOWEEN.  25 

XXXIII. 

A  terrible  moment — 'twas  coming  nigh  ; 

'Tvvas  nearer ;  'twas  nearer  ;  'twas  on  me  ! 
Oh  can  I  believe  it ! — it  pass'd  me  by  ; 
And  off,  in  the  distance,  it  seem'd  to  die, 
With  the  creak  of  its  wings  : — but  there  came  a 

cry, 
And  a  hollow,  unspeakable,  fading  sigh, 

And  a  laugh  in  my  ears  to  stun  me. 
Ha — ha  !  Ha — ha  !  What  a  wretch  was  I, 

For  I  thought  the  devil  had  won  me. 

XXXIV. 

Ha — ha  !  Ha — ha  !  'tvvas  a  hollow  jeer  ; 

And  it  broke  like  a  thunder-clap,  right  in  my  ear, 

And  just  when  I  thought  not  a  whisper  was  near, 

It  burst  like  a  trumpet  beside  me  : 
And  it  deafen'd  my  hearing,  with  deafness  that 

rung, 
And  I  knew  'twas  a  black  and  a  damned  tongue, 

That  had  laugh'd  such  a  laugh  to  deride  me. 

XXXV. 

For  I  had  senses,  and  1  could  tell 
By  my  spirit's  hearing,  that  such  a  yell 
Was  only  learn'd  in  the  bottom  of  hell, 
To  torture  a  bodiless  soul : 


26  HALLOWEEN. 

And  bodiless,  still  I  could  feel  the  same, 
And  I  trembled  whenever  a  spirit  came, 

Or  the  flap  of  his  flying  stole. 
Oh  why  did  I  tremble  !  The  deathless  mind, 

It  needeth  no  more  to  be  human  still, 
Its  flesh,  and  its  beauty,  it  leaveth  behind, 

But  still  it  endureth — the  conquerless  Will. 

XXXVI. 

I  fell— I  fell— I  fell, 

Till  my  spirit  began  to  tire, 
I  had  verily  thought  the  depths  of  Hell 

Were  nearer  to  Heaven,  and  higher  ! 
And  I  felt  howr  terrible  'twas,  to  be 
Falling  through  all  Eternity, 
With  never  an  eye  to  gaze  and  see, 

But  oh,  such  a  soul  to  desire  ! 

XXXVII. 

And  was  I  to  be  for  ages  so  ! 
A  being,  forever  so  blind  to  go  ! 
Oh,  I  was  left  in  my  soul  to  know 

The  wicked  are  like  the  Ocean, 
That  never  can  rest,  in  rise  or  fall, 
That  even  in  calm,  is  tremulous  all, 
That  casteth  up  mire,  and,  bitter  as  gall, 

Is  ever,  and  aye  in  motion. 


HALLOWEEN.  27 


XXXVIII. 


A  body  grew  o'er  my  ghostly  mind. 
And  I  felt  young  winglets  sprout  behind, 
A  butterfly  pair  of  gauzy  things  ; 
And  I  was  a  cherub  with  little  wings. 
But.  cherubs  there  are  of  weal  and  woe, 
Angels  above  and  imps  below  : 
Oh,  was  it  for  good  I  was  fashion'd  so  ! 

Or  was  it  for  direr  stings  ! 
For  now  I  had  eyes  ;  and  now  I  could  see  ; 
And  now  I  was  dress'd  in  a  shape  to  be 
A  new-born  soul  in  Eternity, 
But  ignorant  all  of  my  destiny, 

As  the  veriest  bird  that  sings. 

XXXIX. 

But  an  angel  flew  with  his  hands  let  down  ; 
A  glorious  angel — that  wore  a  crown  ; 
And  he  caught  me  up  so  sweet,  and  smil'd, 
As  a  mother  takes  up  her  falling  child  ; 
And  I  was  happy,  and  thought  me  then 
One  of  the  army  of  ransom'd  men, 
But  oh,  alas  !  I  was  left  again 
In  desolate  wastes,  and  wild. 


28  HALLOWEEN. 


XL. 


But  in  mine  eyes  strange  virtues  grew  ; 
And  now  the  Heaven  of  Heavens,  to  view 

Rose  glorious  as  the  light ! 
Oh  it  were  idle  to  strive  to  tell, 
But  I  can  remember,  remember  well, 

How  wonderful  seem'd  the  sight. 
I  was  not  there  ;  but  saw  afar 
How  happy  the  heavenly  spirits  are, 
Like  him  of  old,  with  a  gulf  between 
My  longing  soul  and  the  glorious  scene. 
Oh,  never  shall  pass  that  dread  ravine 

A  soul  defiled  by  sin  ! 
But  there  was  I,  and  I  could  see 
How  desolate  all  without  must  be, 

How  rapturous  all  within. 

XLI. 

It  seem'd  as  if  in  Heaven,  they  all 
Were  keeping  some  high  festival : 
For,  far  and  near,  they  thronging  came, 
Angels,  and  shapes  of  living  flame, 
That  had  been  wandering  with  their  peers, 
Out,  o'er  remotest  stars  and  spheres, 
And  roaming  over  fields  of  light, 
Adoring  ever,  at  the  sight 


HALLOWEEN.  29 

Of  wondrous  things,  beyond  our  seeing, 
Creations  bursting  into  being, 
New  suns  and  planets  ever  making, 
And  new-born  light  forever  breaking. 

XLII. 

And  wonder  seem'd  their  high  employ- 
Forever,  in  their  homes  of  joy  ; 
These  are  thy  works — the  endless  song 
Forever  roll'd  those  worlds  along. 
And  now  they  came,  to  worship  flying, 
From  stars  beyond  old  Saturn  lying  ; 
From  far  they  came,  all  homeward  winging, 
And  ever  on  their  journey  singing, 
And  trooping  to  their  homes  again 
From  realms  beyond  our  utmost  ken, 
Legions  on  legions — from  the  coasts 
Of  all  thine  empire,  Lord  of  Hosts  ! 

XLIII. 

A  pair  of  angels  came  apart 

Of  naming  soul,  and  flaming  heart, 

And  flying  through  the  holy  air 

From  Paradise's  gardens  fair, 

As  if  two  flowers  that  there  were  wreathing, 

Had  sprung  to  life,  all  wing'd  and  breathing. 


30  HALLOWEEN. 

Ulla  and  Arah,  they  are  lovers  ; 
Ulla  with  Arah  ever  hovers  ; 
Ever  together — twins  in  Heaven  ; 
To  whom,  by  God  himself  'twas  given 
That  loving  all,  and  loving  Him, 
They  should  be  loving  cherubim, 
And  ever  in  his  empire  dwell, 
Two  heavenly  souls,  yet  one  as  well, 
In  love  that  is  unspeakable. 

XLIV. 

Ulla  and  Arah,  there  they  came 

Floating  in  atmosphere  of  flame  , 

And  hovering,  in  the  amber  blaze, 

Like  phantoms  in  a  golden  haze. 

Oh,  ye  that  rapt  in  wondrous  awe, 

Have  seen  what  ancient  hands  could  draw, 

Bethink  ye  of  the  shapes  divine, 

With  wavy  grace  in  every  line, 

In  rainbow  rays  of  glory  hung, 

Which  rapt  Rafaelle's  pencil  flung  ; 

And  ye  can  tell  how  there  I  felt, 

To  see  those  cherubs  as  they  knelt, 

Their  wings  and  arms  together  twining, 

Their  beamy  locks  together  shining, 

And  rising,  falling,  bathed  in  light, 

As  eagles  poise  them  in  their  flight ; 


HALLOWEEN.  31 

On  waves  of  ether  swan-like  sailing, 
And,  in  their  angel-worship,  veiling, 
As  Holy,  Holy,  they  did  call, 
In  music-notes  seraphical. 

XLV. 

And  I  could  see,  when  there  above, 

This  was  thine  essence,  Holy  Love  ! 

For  love,  below,  unfailing  comer 

To  light  and  shade  our  life's  young  summer; 

The  love  that  stirs  each  earthly  bosom, 

When  life's  first  blushing  roses  blossom  ; 

That  joyful,  gleeful,  blissful  sighing, 

Dying  for  love,  yet  never  dying  : 

Oh,  that  sweet  speech  of  eye  to  eye, 

Is  love,  but  not  like  love  on  high. 

'Tis  all  the  same  in  essence  fair, 

But  mingled  here — 'tis  perfect  there  : 

Here,  earthly,  troubled,  never  sure, 

Above,  'tis  tearless,  blest,  and  pure : 

Here,  never  can  we  call  our  own, 

Flesh  of  our  flesh,  and  bone  of  bone  ; 

Above,  two  hearts  may  join  in  one, 

And  never  is  the  tie  undone, 

Unending  still,  and  still  be^un. 


32  HALLO  WE  EX. 

XLVI. 

Oh  yes  !  for  it  was  born  above, 

That  Medo-Persic  law  of  Love  ! 

It  hath  in  God  himself  its  spring, 

And  is  like  God,  a  holy  thing. 

They  that  love  on,  and  love  through  all, 

Though  fortune  lower,  and  fate  appal ; 

The  wife  that  wed  in  happy  day, 

Loves  still  when  clouds  come  o'er  the  way  ; 

The  manly  heart,  that  ne'er  so  warm, 

Gives  his  own  breast  to  brave  the  storm, 

So  he  may  shield  her  faded  form  ; 

These  loving  spirits — think  ye  these 

Well  moor'd  at  length  in  calmer  seas, 

And  brighter,  fairer,  blest  above, 

Will  love  the  less,  where  all  is  love? 

Oh,  there  upon  that  happy  shore 

They  wed,  and  give  away  no  more, 

But  angel-lovers,  they  abide, 

And  roam  the  blissful  regions  wide, 

In  love  sublimed  and  purified. 

XLVII. 

And  then  I  thought  if  I  should  ever 
Reach  that  dear  home,  to  leave  it  never, 


HALLOWEEN. 


33 


I  too  would  find  some  angel-spirit 

Risen  from  Earth  through  Christ,  his  merit, 

With  whom  I  too  might  ever  hover, 

In  heavenly  love,  a  heavenly  lover. 

Then  did  it  seem — oh  pray  no  sin 

So  sweet  a  thought  of  heaven  be  in ! 

Then  did  it  seem,  that  heaven  the  dearer 

Would  surely  be,  and  joy  sincerer, 

To  have  some  soul,  akin  to  mine, 

Go  out  o'er  all  the  fields  divine, 

Link'd  with  mine  own — some  soul  that  I 

Had  known  this  side  Eternity  : 

That  we,  no  more  to  part  asunder, 

Together  there,  might  gaze  and  wonder ; 

Praising  the  Lord  for  all  things  there, 

For  all  his  wondrous  works  and  fair, 

So  vast,  so  bright :  but  most,  that  we 

Safe  landed  there  at  last,  should  be  ! 

And  then  along  our  starry  walk, 

Of  this  lone  planet  would  we  talk, 

The  dear  green  Earth,  our  once  sweet  home, 

Of  which  such  few,  far  tidings  come  ; 

Of  all  its  joy,  of  all  its  woe, 

Of  many  a  landscape  there  below  ; 

How  we  were  children  there,  and  grew ; 

How  many  a  joyful  hour  we  knew, 


34  HALLOWEEN. 

Of  how  we  dwelt,  of  how  we  roved, 
And  dearer  far,  of  how  we  loved ! 
And  so  together  would  we  be 
Blest,  through  a  long  Eternity  ; 
As  o'er  the  loving  worlds  we  trod, 
With  all  our  love  absorb'd  in  God. 

XLVIII. 

The  Heaven  of  Heavens  is  fill'd  with  One, 

Of  rays  shot  forth,  and  God  the  Sun  : 

For  God  is  Love,  and  this  is  He, 

That  filleth  all  Immensity. 

And  seraphs  in  his  sight  are  dim, 

They  are  but  beings  out  of  Him  ! 

'Tis  central  Glory — and  its  beams  : 

'Tis  Light's  great  Fountain — and  its  streams 

'Tis  One — so  great,  so  good,  so  bright, 

And  hosts  inscrutable  as  light, 

A  Voice — and  echoes  of  its  sound ; 

God, — and  his  living  smiles  around ! 

XLIX. 

But  God  forbid  that  I  should  dare 
Discover,  what  I  next  saw  there  : 
Or  tell  the  music,  or  the  word, 
That  from  immortal  tongues  I  heard. 


HALLOWEEN.  35 

I  saw,  but  oh  I  must  not  tell, 

The  vision  was  unspeakable  ! 

Millions  on  millions,  bright  to  see, 

All  crowding  through  Immensity  : 

Myriads  on  myriads,  far  away, 

To  keep  the  worship  of  that  day, 

That  stood  in  serried,  close  array, 

And  bent,  and  sway'd  them,  to  the  breeze 

Of  soul-controlling  harmonies  ; 

As  if  the  heavenly  fields  were  sown 

With  wavy  light,  to  harvest  grown. 

L. 

I  saw  them  like  the  elders  fall, 

Whom  once  in  Patmos'  lonely  isle, 
In  dream  apocalyptical 

The  Prophet  saw,  and  quak'd  the  while  : 
But  mine  was  nothing  but  a  dream ; 

A  phantasy,  a  fearful  vision, 
Reflected  in  a  troubled  stream, 

A  soul  that  long'd  for  sights  elysian ; 
Mine  was  an  agony  of  thought, 
By  grief,  and  subtle  fancy  wrought, 
And  what  I  saw  I  only  tell 
As  rny  deep  slumber's  miracle  ; 
For  well  I  know,  that  nothing  gives, 
And  nought  is  known  by  man  that  lives, 


36 


HALLOWEEN. 


Nor  earth  hath  heard,  nor  thought  conceived, 
Nor  Fancy  into  vision  weaved, 
What  joys  the  Faithful  have  in  store, 
Where  our  dear  Lord  is  gone  before. 


LI. 

But  God  has  told  us  by  his  Son, 
How  that  triumphant  church  is  one 
With  all  the  saints,  on  Earth,  who  go 
Campaigning  through  a  world  of  woe ; 
And  one  with  that  dear  army  blest, 
Whose  fight  is  o'er,  yet  calmy  rest, 
In  Paradise — not  mute,  nor  dumb, 
Praying  with  us,  Thy  kingdom  come, 
And  ready,  at  the  Master's  call, 
To  rise  where  Christ  is  all  in  all. 
Oh  ye  baptised,  and  cross'd  beside, 
Ye  soldiers  of  the  Crucified, 
That  stand  in  phalanx  deep  and  broad, 
The  one  Church  Catholic  of  God  ! 
Know  ye  full  well,  that  every  day 
With  you,  the  old  Apostles  pray ; 
With  you,  as  if  on  Earth  they  stood, 
The  prophets'  goodly  brotherhood 
Are  praising  God ;  and  with  them  bright, 
The  martyrs'  noble  host  in  light. 


HALLOWEEN.  37 

Lit. 

These  that  from  great  afflictions  came, 

The  martyrs  with  their  tongues  of  flame, 

And  spirits  of  the  Just,  as  well, 

In  companies  innumerable  ; 

With  our  still  further  voices  blend, 

All  one  with  those  that  there  ascend. 

I  heard  their  clouds  of  song;  arise 

In  full  liturgic  sacrifice  ! 

One  song  from  all  their  legions  given 

Came  rolling  through  the  deep  of  Heaven ; 

And  far  as  vision'd  eye  could  gaze, 

Alike  they  worshipp'd  in  amaze  ; 

And  holy  lauds,  that  I  could  hear 

Far  off  the  same,  the  same  a-near, 

Uprose  before  the  living  throne, 

Where  dwells  the  Infinite  Unknown ; 

Where  lives  in  light — the  nameless  Name, 

Whose  presence  is  a  burning  flame, 

A  flame  of  love — a  flame  of  fire, 

A  God  of  mercy — and  of  ire  ! 

LIU. 

Gone  !  and  the  vision  roll'd  away, 
As  Heaven  shall  roll  that  dreadful  day  ! 
The  stars,  with  Earth's  great  star,  the  Sun, 
Our  God  shall  quench  when  time  is  done, 


38  HALLOWEEN. 

But  in  that  day,  that  direful  day, 
When  blotted  out  is  every  ray, 
'Twill  all  be  light,  yes,  glorious  light, 
To  that  unfathomable  night, 
That,  in  a  moment,  leap'd  around, 
And  chang'd  the  vision  of  my  swound. 

LIV. 

I  saw  a  picture  in  the  air, 

A  shape  that  bleeding  hung : 
It  caught  from  some  far  fires  a  glare, 

That  fearful  shadows  flung  : 
As  when  the  culprit  in  his  cell, 
Sees  him  he  slew,  and  knows  him  well, 
So  did  my  conscience  cry,  'tis  He ; 

So  did  I  know  the  sight ! 
A  being,  bleeding  patiently, 

In  that  terrific  light ! 
A  flickering  blaze  it  was,  that  threw 
Upon  his  form,  a  light  so  blue, 
And  gave  pale  limbs,  a  livid  hue, 

To  fright  me  down  to  Hell ! 
Each  sinew  strain'd — a  writhing  frame, 
The  figure  in  the  subtle  flame, 
How  fearfully  it  went  and  came, 

How  lighted  up — and  fell ! 


HALLOWEEN.  39 

LV. 

A  glorious  being  suffering, 

A  thorny  crown'd  and  bleeding  king, 

His  patient  arms  spread  wide  ; 
The  trickling  drops  were  on  his  brow, 

The  scar  was  on  his  side  ; 
I  gaz'd — methinks  I  see  it  now! 

It  was  the  Crucified  ! 

LVI. 

A  lamb  before  his  shearers  dumb  ! 

I  heard  no  sound  or  murmur  come, 

Though,  but  to  look,  mine  eyes  did  ache, 

To  see  the  very  gibbet  shake, 

And  know  it  was  in  agony 

The  Lord  himself  endur'd  for  me. 

Methought  on  me,  the  tortur'd  eye 

Fell  meek,  and  so  forgivingly  ! 

But  Oh,  the  worst  reproach  it  seem'd, 

To  see  how  merciful  it  beam'd ; 

So  like  the  look  that  broke,  of  old, 

The  heart  that  could  no  longer  hold, 

But  burst  to  bitter  tears  abhorr'd, 

Of  him,  that  had  denied  his  Lord. 


40  HALLOWEEN. 

LVII. 

And  I  had  wept — but  had  no  tears  ! 
I  had  denied  him  many  years  ! 
And  'twas  the  second  death,  I  trow, 
To  look  upon  that  Saviour  now, 
And  think,  what  I  on  earth  had  done, 
To  pierce  afresh  that  Holy  One 
I  yearn'd  to  think  'twas  all  a  dream  ! 

But  no — I  see  him  there  ! 
I  strove  to  waken  with  a  scream, 

But  voices  mock'd  in  air  : 
I  strove  to  cry — I  yearn'd  to  pray  : 
And  a  voice  broke  in  on  my  wild  dismay, 
Go — go,  poor  creature,  begone  for  aye  ! 
And  a  demon  laugh  ha-ha'd  away. 

LV1II. 

There  is  another  world  than  this, 

And  there  'twas  mine  to  fall : 
'Tis  never  a  world  of  joy  or  bliss, 
But  a  world  where  fear  and  darksomeness, 

And  gloom,  enshroudeth  all. 
Oh  pray  ye  now,  while  pray  ye  can, 

That  never  ye  come,  where  then  I  came  ; 
For  never  return'd  a  tell-tale  man, 

That  once  went  down  to  that  world  of  flame. 


HALLOWEEN.  41 

LIX. 

Oh  where  was  my  poor  soul  to  run ! 

I  came  to  light  once  more, 
And  knew  it  was  the  blessed  sun 

That  such  a  flood  did  pour ! 
Oh  yes,  it  was  that  gorgeous  one, 

As  glorious  as  before  ! 
And  I  was  league  on  league  from  here, 

Away  the  stars  among  : 
I  could  not  see  our  little  sphere, 

Or  know  how  sweet  she  sung  ; 
But  I  had  been  so  far  to  roam, 
I  called  the  Solar  System — home. 

LX. 

And  still  I  gaz'd  upon  the  sun  ! 
It  was  that  old  familiar  one  ! 
And  I  remember'd  how  it  seem'd, 
When  daily,  o'er  the  earth,  he  beam'd. 
For  I  had  often  seen  him  rise 
In  splendor  up  the  golden  skies, 
With  varied  clouds,  around  to  curl, 
Like  hues  that  paint  the  mother-pearl. 
And  I  remember'd,  true  and  well, 
His  glory,  o'er  the  Ocean's  swell, 
When  oft,  beneath  his  path  of  fire, 
The  sea's  calm  bosom  would  respire, 


42 


HALLOWEEN. 


Or  bid  each  foam-capp'd  ocean  sprite 
Leap  up,  and  clap  his  wild  delight. 

LXI. 

The  same  dear  sun  was  shining  yet, 

Whose  setting  sheen,  I'll  near  forget, 

When  oft  at  eve,  the  hills  among, 

O'er  the  deep  West  I  saw  him  hung, 

Till  stretch'd  the  woodland  shadows  brown, 

And  bright  apparell'd,  he  went  down. 

'Twas  sweet  to  think,  so  far  away, 

Of  youth  and  its  romantic  day, 

Of  blue  Owasco,  and  my  joy 

To  frolic  there,  a  sailor-boy, 

Till  sunlight  went,  and  many  a  tune 

Beguil'd  my  voyage  beneath  the  moon  ; 

Of  all  the  mountain  streams,  and  groves, 

That  yet  my  memory  keeps  and  loves, 

That  dearer,  brighter,  lovelier,  were 

To  me,  star-wandering  voyager, 

For  memories,  golden  as  the  day, 

Of  morn,  or  evening's  lingering  ray. 

LXII. 

I  saw  the  little  world  from  far, 

And  did  not  know  my  home  ; 
But  bless'd  the  little  fairy  star 

That  did  so  lonely  roam  ; 


HALLOWEEN.  43 

'Twas  spinning  round,  and  round,  and  round, 

And  singing  all  the  while, 
As  went,  until  Apollo  bound, 

Latona's  holy  isle  : 
Away  the  constellations  shone 

Like  stellar  Cyclades, 
And  spun  the  little  Earth  alone, 

Upon  the  airy  seas. 

LXIII. 

The  Earth,  it  is  a  little  ball 

That  sails  thro'  ether  clear, 
And  beautiful  it  moves,  through  all 

The  silent  atmosphere ; 
Ten  thousand,  thousand,  miles  away 

From  any  sister  star, 
It  is  a  lonely  thing,  they  say, 

Yet  shineth  from  afar ; 
To  each  remotest  star  it  smiles, 

And  flieth  all  the  time, 
And  all  its  airy  way,  beguiles, 

With  some  celestial  chime. 

LXIV. 

Oh  do  not  smile  !  it  is  not  vain, 

Though  envy  sneer,  and  doubt  complain  ; 


44  HALLOWEEN. 

They  do  not  dream,  who  say  they  hear 
The  music  of  each  little  sphere, 
On  some  clear  evening,  when  aloft 
The  stars  are  out,  and  shining  soft. 
Oh  Earth,  it  is  a  lonely  thing 
Through  empty  regions  wandering, 
Yet  charm'd  forever,  by  a  sound 
From  all  the  deep  blue  Heaven  around ; 
The  Heaven  above,  the  Heaven  below, 
The  Heaven  wherever  she  may  go, 
The  starry  vault  through  which  she  flies, 
The  deep,  unfathom'd,  pathless  skies. 

LXV. 

Oh  Earth,  it  is  a  little  gem, 

The  green  Earth,  and  the  bright ; 
An  emerald,  in  a  diadem 

Of  sapphire,  blue  as  night ; 
As  night — when  all  the  stars  are  dim, 

Because  the  moon  shines  fair, 
And  Nature  sends  her  holy  hymn, 

Up,  through  the  stilly  air. 
And  now  I  know  that  angels  bright 
Are  ever  with  it,  in  its  flight, 
And  dance  around  it,  as  it  rolls, 
And  spinneth  on  its  silver  poles. 


HALLOWEEN.  45 

They  flit  anear  its  azure  coasts, 

The  legions  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ; 

Ten  thousand,  thousand,  angel  wings 

Are  with  it  in  its  joumeyings, 

And  these  are  they,  whose  simple  smile 

Is  starlight  to  the  little  isle  ; 

And  oft  their  troops  are  visible 

In  changing  columns,  quick  and  glancing, 
As  if  the  skies,  by  miracle, 

Were  full  of  angel-lustres  dancing. 
And  these  in  bright  successive  changes, 
The  boy,  that  through  the  woodland  ranges 
Beholds  appall'd,  and  in  his  fear 
Believes  the  judgment-day  is  near  ; 
While  duller  wits  are  gravely  set 
With  glass,  and  tube  and  tourniquet, 
And  eyes  asquint, — at  what  they  call 
IN  aught  but  Aurora-Boreal ; 
Unweeting  that  the  sign  is  there, 
As  God  in  flesh,  did  once  declare, 
That  all  the  world  might  know  before, 
How  earth  should  rock,  and  ocean  roar, 
And  nations  quake,  and  empires  wail, 
And  man's  strong  heart  with  terror  fail. 


46  HALLOWEEN. 


LXVI. 


The  Earth,  it  is  a  tiny  thing, 

That  hath  all  colours  bright ; 
And  zones,  that  gird  it  like  a  ring, 

With  green  and  snowy  white  ! 
And  ocean  gives  it  fields  of  blue, 

And  mountains  boss  it  fair  ; 
It  carries  every  blessed  hue 

Through  all  the  deep  of  air. 
Oh  yes,  I'm  coming  nearer,  nearer, 
I  see  my  little  dwelling  clearer, 
And  yonder — yes — it  is  the  moon, 
Up  gleaming  from  her  highest  noon  ! 

LXVII. 

I  saw  the  fairy  vision  ope, 
Such  as  ye  ken  through  the  telescope  : 
Now,  'twas  a  globe  of  frost-work  hung 
High  up  in  air,  the  stars  among  ; 
Then  as  it  came  to  daylight  more, 
'Twas  a  blister'd  orb  of  silver  ore  ; 
And  lo  !  as  the  nearer  sunbeams  steal, 
'Tis  an  orange  stripp'd  of  its  golden  peel. 
And  so  was  the  night-queen  lost  in  light ; 
Oh  ye  should  look  on  the  moon  at  night ! 


HALLOWEEN.  47 

LXVIII. 

I  saw  it  was  only  our  planet's  shade, 

That  men  call  night,  and  are  sore  afraid ; 

And  ever,  'tis  so,  with  the  mortal  breast, 

With  the  gloom  of  its  own  dark  soul  distress'd ; 

He  feareth  a  shadow,  that  only  can  be 

A  speck  in  the  sunshine  of  happiness  free ; 

For  man,  like  his  planet,  must  ever  be  going 

Half  dark,  and  half  light,  on  his  wonderful  way, 
While  ever  his  God,  like  the  sunlight,  is  throw- 
ing 

His  merciful,  glorious,  unquenchable  ray. 

LXIX. 

I  never  lik'd  the  world  so  well, 

It  never  seem'd  so  dear : 
For  I  beheld  it,  as  I  fell, 

And  bless'd  the  little  sphere. 
And  now  I  breathed  the  air  again, 

And  felt  't  was  native  breath  ; 
And  I  long'd  to  speak  once  more  to  men, 

And  tell  them  what  is  death  : 
But  I  was  high  in  the  sky-vault  yet, 

And  slow  I  sunk,  and  slower  : 
Oh,  how  I  long'd  my  foot  to  set 

On  the  dear  green  Earth  once  more  ! 


48  HALLOWEEN. 

LXX. 

There  cometh  a  winged  form  ! 

What  meanest  thou,  so  high  ? 
His  wing  was  wet  from  a  lower  storm, 

And  he  wafted,  slowly  by, 
For  his  was  a  spirit  warm, 

And  his  was  a  quenchless  eye  ! 
And  I  knew  'twas  the  eagle — untameable  bird  ! 

For  he  came  with  the  earth's  perfumes  ; 
And  a  mountain  scent,  wherever  he  stirr'd, 

He  shook  from  his  glittering  plumes. 

LXXI. 

Another — another  !  dear  bird  of  my  love, 
Stay,  stay  thy  worn  winglet,  thou  beautiful  dove  ! 
His  bosom  was  heaving,  and  panting  for  breath  ; 
His  maiden-like  eye,  it  was  filmy  as  death  ; 
And  the  dear  little  creature,  he  wing'd  me  by 
So  faint,  and  so  feeble,  I  knew  he  would  die  : 
And  he  seem'd  like  a  spirit  broke  loose  from 

earth, 
That  long'd  to  be  off  to  a  purer  birth, 
That  rose  into  heaven,  and  joyously  there 
Was  happy  a  moment,  in  heavenly  air, 
But  wearied  anon  of  its  hope,  and  its  wing, 
Was  dropping  to  earth  again  :  poor  little  thing  ! 


HALLOWEEN.  49 

LXXII. 

A  hawk — a  hawk  in  chase  above  ! 

Oh  fast !  fly  fast,  my  little  dove  ! 

A  hawk  ! — a  hawk  !  I've  come  again 

To  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  men, 

For  ever  and  aye,  in  the  world  't  was  so, 

Where  a  dove  was  flying,  a  hawk  would  go  ! 

LXXIIl. 

Nearer  to  earth,  it  seem'd  no  more, 

That  beautiful,  glorious,  fairy  shore  ; 

Already,  so  many  a  mile  in  air, 

I  felt  that  a  poison'd  taint  was  there  ; 

And  the  hawk  and  dove,  they  brought  me  back 

To  earth's  dark  scenes,  and  its  beaten  track ; 

And  then  I  remember'd,  remember'd  well, 

As  nearer,  and  nearer,  and  nearer  I  fell, 

How  often  my  spirit  had  groan'd,  to  be 

On  the  dull  time-side  of  Eternity  ; 

How  oft  I  had  hated  and  loath'd  my  home, 

And  long'd  to  be  off  where  the  soul  might  roam, 

And  sigh'd  as  I  gaz'd  on  the  starlight  above  ; 

Oh — oh  had  I  only  the  wings  of  a  dove  ! 

LXXIV. 

O  Earth,  it  is  a  weary  place, 
A  never  lighten'd  gloom  ; 


50  HALLOWEEN. 

The  charnel  of  a  dying  race  ; 

The  soaring  spirit's  tomb. 
Oh  Earth,  't  is  a  dismal  nook  at  best, 

I  never  can  bear  it  more  ; 
As  eaglets  never  can  bear  their  nest, 

When  once  they  have  learn'd  to  so  r ! 

LXXV. 

Dids't  ever  fall  in  a  fearful  dream ! 

For  now  I  was  falling  so  : 
And  ye  who  have  dream'd  a  fall,  may  deem 

It  was  fearful  to  fall  so  low. 
Falling,  and  falling,  and  falling — Hark  ! 

'T  was  a  voice  from  the  Earth  that  caught  me  ; 
'Twas  wild  as  the  song  of  the  morning  lark, 

Or  the  laugh  that  my  mother  taught  me  ! 

LXXVI. 

But  where  is  it  I  ope  mine  eyes  ! 
Oh,  can  I  be  in  Paradise  ! 
That  voice  so  innocent — so  gay, 
Seem'd  but  to  laugh  as  angels  may ! 
A  wild,  full,  childish  peal  of  joy, 
The  halloo  of  a  noble  boy, 
And  something  like  a  sister's  glee, 
Ha-ha-ing  in  full  harmony. 


HALLOWEEN. 


51 


LXXVII. 

Mine  eyes  were  scarcely  yet  unclos'd ; 
And  half  awake,  I  half  repos'd ; 
It  needed  yet  another  peal 
The  spell  of  spirit  to  unseal : 

Again  it  broke, 

I  woke — I  woke  ! 
Oh,  do  I  wake  to  woe,  or  weal ! 


LXXVIII. 

Two  laughing  cherubs  bent  above  me, 
That  look'd  like  Cupids  sent  to  love  me, 
Laughing  with  all  their  elfin  might, 
The  very  sculpture  of  delight ; 
Their  curly  locks,  and  merry  eyes, 
And  their  full  voices'  melodies, 
The  very  vision,  to  recall 
My  soul,  without  too  sad  a  fall ; 
The  very  link  I  needed,  given, 
So  wild  with  Earth,  so  full  of  Heaven  ! 
And  as  I  woke,  they  flew  away, 
A  pair  of  cherubs — imp  and  fay, 
In  mischief,  merry  o'er  their  fun, 
That  they  had  plagu'd  a  sleepy  one, 
Yet  screaming  in  their  happy  laughter, 
Lest  I  should  up,  and  follow  after. 


52  HALLOWEEN. 


LXXIX. 


I  could  not  stir — I  heard  them  run, 

Two  rosy  children,  full  of  fun  : 

And  now  I  knew  the  bright  blue  eye, 

The  ruddy  lip  that  kiss'd  me  nigh, 

The  voice  that  woke,  the  flaxy  curl, 

Were  all  a  dear  beloved  girl, 

That  out  had  scamper'd,  with  her  brother, 

To  pull  young  flowers,  and  hide  from  mother. 

LXXX. 

I  knew  it  all :  but  there  I  lay, 

My  eyes  were  op'd — I  could  not  stir  ! 
I  felt  as  some  tir'd  pilgrim  ma}'-, 

That  hath  been  years  a  traveller  ! 
A  breeze  was  through  my  casement  blowing, 

And  oh  I  heard  the  warblers  sing  ; 
And  rarest  plants  their  scents  were  throwing, 

And  every  breath  was  full  of  Spring 
And  I  was  waking  up  from  death, 

As  one  who  hath  been  drown'd ; 
Oh,  how  my  spirit  shuddereth 

To  tell  ye  of  that  swound  ! 
I  could  not  thank  the  Lord  enow, 

That  it  was  all  a  dream ; 


HALLOWEEN.  53 

The  sweat  was  cold  upon  my  brow, 

And  't  was  a  blessed  stream  ; 
I  felt  the  sweet  life-giving  air, 
In  every  tangle  of  my  hair, 
But  could  not  stir — for  there  was  I, 
In  more  than  rapture's  reverie. 
And  was  I  yet  in  this  green  world, 

Was  yet  my  spirit  here  ! 
Was  I  safe  home,  that  had  been  hurl'd 

Out  o'er  the  farthest  sphere  ! 
Oh — had  I  time  to  strive  for  Heaven  ! 

Or,  was  I  dreaming  still ! 
Would  God  this  riddle's  end  were  given  ! 

I  said — and  like  a  thrill, 
Over  the  hills,  and  over  the  dells, 
I  heard  your  music,  bells,  sweet  bells  ! 

LXXXL 

I  knew  from  earth  it  must  arise  ; 
'Tis  always  Sunday  in  the  skies, 
And  save  on  earth,  there  is  no  where 
That  spirits  need  a  call  to  prayer. 
The  bells,  the  bells,  the  same  old  chime  ! 
It  brought  me  back  to  childhood's  time  ; 
I  saw  the  gray  old  church's  towers, 
The  ivied  porch,  the  funeral  flowers, 


54  HALLOWEEN. 

And  smelt  the  very  scent  they  flung, 
So  full  of  joy,  when  I  was  young ! 
I  heard  the  organ's  swell  once  more, 
Through  window-arch  and  portal  pour, 
While  throng'd  the  villagers  to  pray, 
In  groups  along  the  rustic  way, 
And  saw,  the  shadow'd  walk  adown, 
The  dear  old  rector's  reverend  gown. 

LXXXII. 

My  soul  grew  strong  ;  and  up  I  rose, 

Oh  yes,  I  have  been  all  night  dreaming  ; 
But  now  the  ruddy  morning  glows, 

And  up  the  golden  sun  is  streaming  : 
I'll  out  upon  the  pebbled  path, 

Mine  easy  robe  about  me  folding, 
And  see  how  bright  the  season  hath 

Put  forth  fresh  flowers,  for  my  beholding. 
Green  Earth  is  all  around  reviving, 

And  strong  is  every  living  thing  ; 
And  all  is  pleasant  health,  and  thriving, 

In  thy  sweet  season,  lovely  Spring  ! 
Yes,  every  knoll  its  wealth  unbosoms, 

And  laugheth  o'er  the  winter  flown, 
And  see  the  dead  old  trunk  hath  blossoms, 

And  moss  is  on  the  cold  gray  stone. 


HALLOWEEN.  55 

LXXXIII. 

And  up  the  butterfly  is  springing 

From  out  the  shroud,  that  lately  wound  him  ; 
And  off  on  gentle  zephyrs  winging, 

How  spurneth  he  the  clod  that  bound  him. 
So  our  Lord  did  break  his  prison, 

So  he  wafted  to  the  skies  ; 
So  my  soul,  thou  too  hast  risen  ! 

So  the  dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  . 

LXXXIV. 

It  was  the  holy  Easter-day, 

And  Nature,  like  an  infant  lay, 

When  soft  its  breathing  comes  and  goes, 

No  sound,  no  stir,  but  cool  repose. 

A  calm  soft  sleep  was  in  the  air, 

And  every  breeze,  that  whisper'd  there, 

Came  sweet  as  from  a  seraph's  mouth, 

With  odours  from  the  sunny  South. 

And  so  the  garden-walks  along 

I  saunter'd  pleas'd,  and  humming  song, 

And  knew  that  Heaven  itself  above, 

Did  keep  with  Earth  that  feast  of  Love. 

LXXXV. 

When  Christ,  our  Lord,  was  born  of  old, 
An  angel  choir  his  coming  told  ; 


56  HALLOWEEN. 

And  from  the  manger  where  he  lay, 
All  up  along  the  starry  way, 
Were  seraphs  set,  and  watchwords  given, 
To  pass  the  story  up  to  Heaven. 
And  so  in  sooth,  they  stand  as  well, 
Though  not  to  mortals  visible, 
Where'er  the  Church's  anthems  rise, 
To  waft  our  homage  to  the  skies. 
Oh  then,  how  blest  each  festal  morn, 
When  Christ  arose,  when  Christ  was  born, 
And  who  but  loves  thee,  Easter-day, 
Queen  of  old  feasts,  so  bright,  so  gay, 
So  dear  to  every  Christian  soul, 
O'er  all  the  Earth,  from  pole  to  pole  ! 

LXXXVI. 

For  Heaven  comes  down  to  Earth,  in  thee, 
That  wrorship  may  be  harmony. 
And  years  on  years  away  have  roll'd, 
But  still  the  Easter  chimes  aretoll'd. 
From  land  to  land  they  peal  and  ring, 
How  Jesu  is  our  Lord  and  King ; 
And  hark  !  once  more — from  yonder  fane, 
Outpeal  those  gushing  sounds  again, 
Responsive  to  the  anthem,  hurl'd 
From  land  to  land,  around  the  world. 


HALLOWEEN.  57 

LXXXVII. 

Yes, — the  Easter-bells  are  ringing  ! 

Yes, — it  is  the  Easter-day  ! 
Hark, — their  merry  chimes  are  singing, 

In  their  sweet  old  fashioned  way  ! 

Listen, — for  they  seem  to  say,  ^ 

In  their  ivied  turret  swinging, 

Hear  oh  Earth,  'tis  Easter-day  ! 

1. 

Christ  is  arisen, 

Joy  to  thee,  mortal ! 
Out  of  his  prison, 

Forth  from  its  portal ! 
Christ  is  not  sleeping, 

Seek  him  no  longer  ; 
Strong  was  his  keeping  ; 

Jesus  was  stronger ! 

2. 

Christ  is  arisen, 

Seek  him  not  here, 
Lonely  his  prison, 

Empty  his  bier ; 
Vain  his  entombing, 

Spices,  and  lawn ; 


58  HALLOWEEN. 

Vaiji  the  perfuming : 
Jesus  is  gone ! 

3. 

Christ  is  arisen, 
Joy  to  thee,  mortal ! 

Empty  his  prison, 
)i     Broken  its  portal : 

Rising,  he  giveth 

His  shroud  to  the  sod ; 

Risen, — he  liveth, 
And  liveth  to  God ! 

LXXXVIII. 

Yes, — and  all  the  world  around, 
So  those  Easter  chimings  sound  : 
All  the  Earth  is  gay  and  bright, 
Risen  with  the  Lord  to  light ; 
Yes, — and  yonder  sun  doth  see 
Many  a  Christian  on  hi-s  knee, 
Singing,  as  he  bends  to  pray, 
Christ,  our  Lord,  is  risen  to-day  ' 

LXXXIX. 

Think,  my  soul,  in  every  land 
How,  in  holy  aisles,  they  stand ; 
Christians — who  with  every  tongue, 
Lauds,  and  anthems  high,  have  sung ; 


HALLOWEEN.  59 

And  all  night  long,  pale  vigil  kept, 
As  Magdalene  and  Mary  wept, 
With  lowly  heart,  but  lifted  eye, 
Gazing  raptly  on  the  sky, 
Blessing  there  the  Paschal  moon, 
And  longing,  as  she  pass'd  her  noon, 
To  see  her  silver  melt  away, 
In  all  the  golden  glow  of  day  ! 

XC. 

Think  of  those  who  watch'd  the  dawn, 
Pilgrims,  o'er  the  desert  drawn, 
Round  the  Sepulchre  afar, 
Where  the  turban'd  Paynims  are  ! 
Think,  who,  there,  His  love  to  shew, 
Rose  two  thousand  years  ago  ! 
Think,  how  Mary  wept  to  say, 
They  have  ta'en  my  Lord  away  ; 
Think,  when  Christ  appear'd  to  her 
How  she  call'd  Him — gardener : 
Picture  then  the  fond  reply, 
Mary and  her  swimming  eye. 

XCI. 

Think  along  the  Grecian  isles 
How  each  dark-eyed  lady  smiles, 


60 


HALLOWEEN. 


As,  at  incense-hour,  she  goes, 

Singing  sweetly — Jesus  rose ! 

Think  of  Roman,  Goth,  and  Hun, 

Praising  and  adoring  One  ! 

While,  the  solid  world  around, 

Rises  one  symphonious  sound, 

From  choirs,  and  bells,  and  organs  blown, 

Cathedral  chaunt,  and  matins  lone, 

One  burst — one  loud  adoring  voice, 

The  Lord  is  risen — Earth  rejoice  ! 


XCII. 

A  thousand  vintages  to-day, 
The  dear  Redeemer's  blood  display, 
From  Samos'  isle  of  ruddy  vines, 
To  where  the  Finland  chalice  shines  ; 
And  where  the  Hindu  hand  hath  crush'd 
The  grape  that  in  the  jungle  blush'd ; 
Or  where  the  Huron's  cluster  wild, 
Is  on  the  altar,  undefiled. 
And  grain  that  hath  to  harvest  grown, 
Upon  a  thousand  mountains  sown, 
From  green  Arkansas,  to  Cathay, 
Is  bless'd  for  Jesu's  flesh  to-day. 


HALLOWEEN.  61 

XCIII. 

And  every  altar,  Greek  and  Goth, 

Is  cover'd  with  its  snowy  cloth ; 

And  kneeling  Christians,  every  where, 

Are  fed  with  sacramental  fare. 

In  farthest  Ind,  I  see  them  bow, 

The  naked  shape,  the  swarthy  brow, 

Where  Gunga's  wave,  so  dark  before, 

Hath  borne  the  northern  bishop's  prore  ; 

Aye  there,  'neath  vault  and  swelling  dome, 

And  oh,  in  my  green  forest  home, 

All — all  are  kneeling  ! — and  on  high, 

There's  one  communion  in  the  sky  : 

For  there  all  angels,  and  the  dead, 

Are  one,  in  Him  that  suffered  ! 

XCIV. 

To-day  the  chimes  of  England  call 

A  nation  to  the  festival ; 

And  I  can  see  the  glorious  light, 

That  makes  the  minster-window  bright, 

And  throws  a  gorgeous  stain,  in  flood, 

Upon  the  blessed  bread  and  blood. 

I  see,  beside  the  altar,  stand, 

The  bishop,  with  the  Cup  in  hand, 


62  HALLOWEEN. 

A  solemn  light  around  him  shed, 

And  holy  hues  upon  his  head ! 

I  see  the  priests  in  snowy  white, 

And  tombs  writh  blazon'd  scutcheons  dight ; 

I  see  the  people  kneeling  round ; 

I  hear  the  organ's  host  of  sound, 

With  angels  and  archangels  high, 

The  Saviour  laud  and  magnify  ! 

And  I  can  feel,  to  worship  there, 

Is  living  on  the  mount  of  prayer  ! 

xcv. 

Oh,  utter'd  in  an  humbler  tone, 
The  same  high  service  is  mine  own. 
And  hark  again,  the  bells,  the  bells  ! 
The  music,  what  a  tale  it  tells  ! 
It  calleth  all,  and  calleth  me  ; 
Nor  vain  shall  its  sweet  warning  be, 
For  I  this  morn,  through  Him  that  bled, 
Am  doubly  risen  from  the  dead ; 
If  but  my  Lord  will  hear  to-day 
The  vows  repentant  I  would  pay, 
And,  as  once  more  He  gives  me  breath, 
Give  me  to  win  a  holier  death, 
With  ministers  of  mercy  round, 
And  pard'ning  grace,  and  prayer's  sweet 
sound, 


HALLOWEEN.  63 

And  sacramental  strength  to  break 
The  bonds  of  flesh — and  then  to  wake, 
As  now  I  waken,  from  a  dream, 
And  hail  this  holy  Easter-beam 
That  bids  me  sing  my  Saviour's  love, 
And  risen,  seek  the  things  above. 


L'ENVOI. 

Oft  my  dull  hours,  poor  Song,  thou  hast  deceived, 

And  borne  me  back  to  that  enchanted  dream, 
In  which  I  made  thee.     In  thee  have  I  weaved 

More  than  to  shallow  eyesight  there  will  seem. 

And  thou  hast  liv'd,  as,  in  the  darling  beam 
Of  one  bright,  lady,  the  cag'd  bird  doth  dwell, 

Where  he  that  gave  it,  envies  it  the  gleam 
Of  her  admiring  smiles.     But  from  her  cell 
Now  thou  art  loos'd,  poor  Song — thou'lt  not  be 
lov'd  so  well. 


NOTES. 


All-Saints'  day,  as  all  good  Christians  should  remember,  is  the 
first  day  of  November.  Halloween,  is  a  sweet  Scotticism  for  its 
vigil,  familiar  to  the  reader  of  Burns,  but  which  1  have  grudged 
to  the  degrading  use  which  has  been  made  of  it,  by  that  unhappy 
bard. 

Instead  of  the  profane  rites  by  which  it  has  been  desecrated,  1 
have  supposed  it  observed  in  Christian  homes,  by  fire-side  tales 
and  recollections  of  the  departed,  and  conversations  about  the 
state  of  Intermediate  Repose.  Such  would  be  a  less  unfitting 
way  of  preparing  for  a  Festival,  in  which  the  Church  commemo- 
rates her  Saints  and  Martyrs,  and  all  the  dead  in  Christ,  as  part 
of  her  Holy  Communion,  expecting  with  her  the  resurrection  of 
the  body,  and  the  final  award  of  the  life  everlasting. 

This  Festival  is  the  counterpart  of  Easter — telling  of  Death,  as 
Easter  does  of  Resurrection ;  and  as  God  has  given  to  the  latter, 
the  reviving  blossom  and  the  sweet  Spring-time ;  so  He  has  set 
the  former  in  the  Autumn,  and  strewed  the  sere  leaves  in  our  path 
to  Church,  as  its  becoming  symbol.  And  thus  the  true  Cath- 
olic always  finds  himself  living  in  harmony  with  nature;  for  the 
Author  of  Nature  is  the  Author  of  his  Holy  Religion.  He  has  a 
joy  which  the  world  knows  not,  in  beholding  all  the  works  of  God. 
They  have  a  place  in  that  system  of  the  universe,  of  which  the 
Catholic  Church  is  a  part ;  and  Niagara,  and  Mont  Blanc,  pos- 
sess for  him  a  ritual  character,  as  really  as  the  Te  Deum,  in  which 
he  sings,  "All  the  earth  doth  worship  thee  the  Father  Ever- 
lasting." 


NOTES.  65 

The  warlocks  are  at  their  play. 

Strophe  vii. 

Such  is  one  of  the  familiar  superstitious  concerning  Halloween. 

There  is  a  world,  8fc. 

Strophe  ix. 

See  Ps.  78;  49.  Zech.  13;  2.  Eph.  6;  12.  1.  Tim.  4;  1. 
And  for  Guardian  Angels  see  S.  Matt.  18 ;  10,  and  the  service 
for  Michaelmas,  in  the  Prayerbook. 

But  one  whose  soul  hath  been  in  Hell. 

Strophe  x. 

The  word  Hell  is  here  used,  as  in  the  Creed,  to  signify  Hades, 
or  the  place  of  departed  spirits.  I  have  purposely  shunned  any 
imagining1  of  its  secret  thing's,  whether  in  the  Paradise  of  the 
just,  or  the  Phylace  of  the  wicked ;  and  have  simply  employed 
some  of  the  revelations  of  the  Apocalypse,  in  a  reverent  hint  at 
the  employment  of  the  Angels  in  Heaven.  The  episode  of  Ulla 
and  Arah  is  introduced  to  illustrate  the  received  doctrine  of  the 
recognition  of  friends  in  the  final  abodes  of  the  righteous. 

A  pig  from.  Epicurus'  stye. 

Strophe  xix. 

The  reader  will  recognize  this  truly  Horatian,  though  some 
what  inelegant  metaphor,  as  borrowed  from 

"  Porcus  de  grege  Epicuri." 

And,  I  could  see  when  there  above. 

Strophe  xlv. 

This  passage  was  written  with  Southey's  famous  lines  in  mem- 
ory, beginning 

"  Oh  when  a  mother  meets  on  high." 


66 


NOTES. 


As  God  injlesh  did  once  declare. 

Strophe  lxv. 

See  the  Gospel  for  the  second  Sunday  in  Advent. 

That  hath  all  colours  bright. 

Strophe  Ixvi. 
A  year  or  so  after  this  was  written,  1  read  some  of  the  Dia- 
logues of  Plato,  and  found  in  the  Phaedon,  (I  think,)  a  passage, 
which  might  be  supposed  to  have  suggested  this  whole  strophe. 

Such  as  ye  ken  through  the  telescope. 

Strophe  lxvii. 

The  appearance  here  described  may  be  observed  through  a 
telescope  in  an  inverted  order,  when  the  moon  is  nearly  full  and 
rises  about  sunset. 

Green  Earth  is  all  around  reviving. 

Strophe  lxxxii. 
The  reader  is  referred  to  a  sweet  description  of  Easter,  in  the 
charming  book  entitled  "  Scenes  in  Our  Parish." 

Christ  is  arisen. 

Strophe  lxxxvii. 

The  famous  chorus  of  the  women  in  Faust,  suggested  this  little 
ode,  which  is  partly  translated  from  the  German  of  Goethe. 


And  risen,  seek  the  things  above. 

Strophe  xcv. 
See  Epistle  for  Easter-day,  in  the  Church  Service.     The  moral 
of  all  is,  in  the  words  of  Augustine,  "  Ibam  longe  a  te  in  plura 
aterilia  semina  dolorum,  O  tardum  gaudium  meum !" 


LAYS, 

MEDITATIVE  AND  DEVOTIONAL. 


The  lyre  my  boyhood  chose  for  idle  lays, 
Of  its  own  impulse  found  a  holier  strain. 

Personne. 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF 

JOHN    FIXLEY    SMITH,    M.   A. 
LATE  OF  HAMILTON  COLLEGE, 

THESE   LAYS, 

PRESERVED     CHIEFLY    FOR     THE     SAKE 

OF 

THEIR   ASSOCIATIONS   WITH  HIM, 

ARE    NOW    INSCRIBED, 

IN     SAD     FULFILLMENT     OF    A     PROMISE 

MADE 

WHEN   WE   WERE    BOYS    TOGETHER. 

A.  C.  C. 


' 


PREFACE. 


When  the  Christian  Ballads  first  appeared, 
I  appended  to  the  book  several  little  poems  of  a  dif- 
ferent character,  with  the  announcement  that  they 
were  selected  from  a  forthcoming  volume.  Al- 
though I  afterwards  determined  not  to  publish  that 
volume  in  a  collected  form,  its  contents  have,  to  a 
great  extent,  found  their  way  into  print ;  and  are 
from  time  to  time  reviving,  and  dying  newspaper 
deaths,  sometimes  with  the  loss  of  limbs,  and  even 
parts  more  vital.  I  have  been  induced  therefore  to 
collect  and  arrange  them,  and,  in  an  unostentatious 
form,  to  present  them  to  the  public :  supposing  that 
my  friends  will  not  be  unwilling  to  have  these  early 
efforts,  in  a  legitimate  shape,  and  that  others  will 
find  the  volume  too  unpretending  to  deserve  their 
censure. 

These  poems,  except  a  few  introduced  in  place  of 
others  destroyed,  were  written  in  my  early  years. 
They  were  begun  in  the  Summer  of  1836,  when  I 
was  passing  a  college  vacation  under  my  father's 


1 


72 


PREFACE. 


roof,  at  Auburn,  in  Western  New  York.  It  was  my 
privilege  there  to  meet  the  friend,  to  whose  mem- 
ory I  have  inscribed  them  ;  and  to  his  musical  taste, 
and  his  frequent  suggestion  that  I  should  give  him 
words  for  some  of  his  favorite  airs,  the  production 
of  the  songs  and  hymns  in  this  collection,  was 
chiefly  owing.  Little  did  I  foresee  that  they  would 
be  published  as  a  tribute  to  his  beloved  memory  ! 

As  motives  of  ambition  would  dictate  the  suppres- 
sion of  this  boyish  book,  after  the  favorable  recep- 
tion bestowed  by  the  public,  on  my  later  produc- 
tions, I  shall  find  every  anticipation  satisfied,  if  in 
the  opinion  of  goodnatured  critics,  these  Lays  are 
not  unworthy  of  the  years  in  which  they  were 
written. 

A.  C.  C. 

The  Sycamores,  Hartford  West, 

August  15,  1843. 


LAYS. 


GIVE  ME   THE  HOUR. 

1. 

Give  me  the  hour  of  day's  decline 

To  muse  upon  my  own, 
To  call  from  Earth  each  wish  of  mine, 

And  dream  of  Heaven  alone  ; 
And  let  nor  voice,  nor  foot  intrude 
Upon  my  meditative  mood, 

As  stretched  in  lonely  cell  or  bower, 
I  feel  the  shades,  that  o'er  the  lea, 
Come  lengthening  till  they  fall  on  me 

And  veil  my  pensive  hour. 

2. 

For  I  have  loved  the  Eventide, 
While  yet  I  knew  not  why  ; 

But  now,  since  early  friends  have  died, 
'Tis  dear  as  memory. 

It  minds  me  of  their  quiet  sleep 

'Neath  many  a  grassy  mound ;  or  deep 


74  LAYS. 

The  floods  of  far-off  seas  below ! 
It  tells  me  how  my  years  steal  on, 
How  strong  and  lovely  ones  have  gone, 

And  how  we  all  must  go  ! 

3. 

My  name  shall  ne'er  be  writ  with  those 

Whose  friendships  death  can  end  ; 
No  grave  upon  my  love  can  close, 

No  tomb  take  all  my  friend  ; 
Not  only  in  communion  blest, 
I  share  their  beatific  rest, 

But  oft  to  ev'n  mine  earthly  ken, 
Their  Death  seems  but  a  signet  set, 
To  love,  whose  converse  passeth  yet, 

All  life  with  worldly  men. 

4. 

To  think  of  names,  once  daily  heard, 

That  now  are  read  in  stone, 
And  know  each  gesture,  look,  and  word, 

Familiar  smile  and  tone, 
As  all  would  be,  could  they  but  still 
Give  hand  and  heart  with  thine  to  thrill, 

This  is  a  pure  though  sad  delight ! 
And  such  is  mine,  at  that  sweet  hour 
When  wakes  the  star,  and  dies  the  flower, 

As  sunset  turns  to  night. 


HYMN    OF    THE    WREATH. 


75 


5. 

Thus  ye  come  back,  my  own  dear  dead, 

From  Paradise's  door, 
To  fill  with  feelings  hallowed, 

The  world  ye  blessed  before  ! 
When  we  were  mates,  ye  drew  with  mine, 
Life's  pictured  way,  in  equal  line, 

Nor  dreamed  we,  ye  were  near  its  goal; 
Where  hand-in-hand  we  thought  to  be, 
YeVe  left  a  lonely  race  to  me  ; 

Ah,  shall  I  run  the  whole  ! 


HYMN   OF  THE  WREATH. 

1. 

Ah  gentle  flowers  ! 
Long  time  enough  my  life  has  run, 
To  twine  dear  thoughts,  with  every  one, 

That  blooms  in  bowers. 

2. 

My  couch  beside, 
When  I  am  sick, — each  flings  a  scent 
Of  its  own  story  redolent, 

O'er  memory's  tide. 


76  LAYS. 

3. 

There's  pert  heartsease ! 
The  boy's  own  flower  shall  still  be  mine 
While  thoughts  of  childhood's  auld-lang-syne, 

My  heart  can  please. 

4. 

The  parlour's  pride, 
Sweet  hyacinth — thy  full  perfume 
Reminds  of  home — the  curtained  room, 

And  warm  fireside. 

5. 

The  primrose  lone, 
I  see  it  ever  on  its  stalk, 
Flush  in  my  favorite  woodland  walk 

Spring's  first  full-blown. 

6. 

And  crocus,  too, 
I've  seen  it  up  on  Easter-day ; 
Sweet  symbol,  from  the  frozen  clay 

Rising  anew ! 

7. 

The  coiled  woodbine, 
Brings  some  fair  cottager  to  sight, 
That  to  her  lattice,  trails  aright 

Its  tangled  vine. 


HYMN    OF    THE    WREATH.  77 

8. 

Rose— red  or  pale, 
Yellow  or  mossy — who  shall  sing, 
Thy  fragrant  memories,  queenly  thing, 

Or  tell  their  tale  ! 

9. 

Starred  jessamine  ! 
Thy  glory  shall  adorn  my  bride's, 
With  orange-blossoms,  wreathed  besides 

Her  tresses  in! 

10. 

And  by  her  bower, 
I'll  plant  the  falling  eardrop's  grace, 
Whose  lady-blossoms  hide  their  face 

From  sun  and  shower. 

11. 

And  she  shall  set 
The  lily  near,  to  favour  me, 
And  myrtles,  and  sad  rosemary 

And  mignonette. 

12. 

And  I  Will  plant 
One  flower  beside — and  say  to  her, 
I've  nursed  it  for  my  monitor ; 

This  thou  shalt  grant ; 


78  LAYS. 

13. 

In  life's  last  hour, 
To  tell  me  of  the  Crucified, 
Oh  set  alone  my  couch  beside 

The  passion-flower. 

14. 

And  on  my  tomb, 
Plant  deathless  amaranth,  for  I 
Would  rise  in  immortality, 

And  endless  bloom. 


f 


STAR   THAT   HAST. 

Hymn  to  the  North  Star. 
I.    1. 


Star  that  hast  thy  bright  abode 

In  the  skies  for  ever, 
Like  the  sleepless  eye  of  God 

Never  resting — never 
Star  of  glory — holy  star, 

Chiming  in  thy  sphere 
Glorious  creature,  from  afar 

If  thou  hearest — hear ! 


STAR    THAT    HAST.  79 

I.    2. 

Deem  not  I  upon  thee  call 

As  to  God  I  bow  ; 
I  before  thy  Maker  fall ; 

I  am  more  than  thou  ! 
But  I've  pleasant  words  for  thee  ! 

And  my  heart  is  flowing; 
Dear  is  thy  sweet  light  to  me, 

And  I  love  its  glowing  ! 

II.    1. 

I,  with  wonder  in  my  soul, 

See  thy  ray  in  heaven, 
Thinking,  thus  while  ages  roll, 

Still  thy  light  is  given. 
Would  I  might  my  story  give 

Deathless  star,  to  thee  ! 
Then,  as  long  as  earth  shall  live, 

Men  would  think  on  me. 

ii.   2. 

Stars  of  earth  on  thee  have  gazed, 

Ever-glorious  flame  ! 
They  have  burned  away  and  blazed, 

Thou  art  still  the  same  ! 


80  LAYS. 

Thou  art  ever  bright  as  now, 

Far  above  all  sorrow  ; 
Born  for  endless  ages  thou  ! 

I  must  die  to-morrow  ! 

III.    1. 

Nay,  thou  ever-watching  star, 

Of  the  heavenly  portal, 
Long  as  thy  dull  ages  are, 

I  am  more  immortal ! 
'Twas  for  this  I  called  thy  name, 

Star  that  dwell'st  so  high, 
For  the  skies  shall  melt  in  flame, 

Even  thou  shalt  die  ! 

in.  2. 

Thou  shalt  perish  ! — I  endure 

When  thy  lamp  is  dim, 
Dark  thy  place  in  ether  pure, 

Hush'd  thy  sphery  hymn  ! 
Thou  shalt  fade  :  and  ne'er  be  found, 

Never  more,  oh,  never  : 
I  shall  live  a  deathless  round, 

Ever — and  for  ever. 


STANZAS. 


81 


STANZAS. 


1. 


She  shone  upon  the  bright  saloon 

Mid  mirth  and  music's  sound, 
Like  moonlight,  on  the  glimmering 

Of  tapers  dim  around, 
And  where  she  walked,  'twas  wonderful 

How  ail  our  hearts  she  bowed, 
And  how  she  tamed  the  manliest, 

And  how  she  awed  the  proud. 


2. 

Some  shapes  there  are,  though  dear  and  rare, 

By  grudging  Nature  given, 
To  teach  us  here,  how  beautiful 

The  angels  are  in  heaven  ; 
And  such  was  she,  the  queen  of  all, 

The  fairest  of  the  fair, 
The  lady  of  the  gentle  heart, 

And  soul-subduing  air. 


82 


LAYS. 


CANZONET. 


1. 

My  heart  is  like  the  twilight  sky 
For  there  thou  shin'st,  its  only  star  ; 

And  giv'st  me  all  the  radiancy 
That  others  worship  from  afar ! 

2. 

Oh  may  this  twilight  be  as  those 

That  linger  o'er  the  arctic  air, 
Where  one  mild  star,  as  fable  shews, 

Goes  round  and  round,  but  sets  not  there. 

3. 

For  I  have  known  no  cheerful  day, 
Till  soft  this  twilight  calm  was  given  ; 

Star  of  my  heart — sink  ne'er  away, 
Nor  seek  too  soon  thy  further  Heaven  ! 


THOU  ART  GONE  TO  THE  LAND.    83 


THOU  ART  GONE  TO  THE 
LAND. 

1. 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  land  of  thy  bloom  and  thy 
birth, 

Thou  fairest  of  beings  that  die  : 
We  knew  that  thy  spirit  was  purer  than  earth, 

We  knew  that  thy  home  was  on  high  ; 
But  we  loved  thee  too  well  not  to  weep  at  thy 
flight, 

And  we  said  it  was  hard  thou  shouldst  go  : 
There  are  angels  enough  in  the  regions  of  light, 

But  whom  hast  thou  left  us  below  ? 

2. 

Ah !    well  did  we  fear  thou  wast  budding  for 
Heaven, 

Though  nurst  in  a  climate  so  cold, 
And  marked  as  a  warning  too  faithfully  given, 

The  wings  of  thy  spirit  unfold  : 
And  rainbow  on  rainbow  thy  pinions  displayed, 

And  thy  gaze  was,  in  love,  on  the  sky, 
And  we  said,  'tis  an  angel  a  moment  delayed, 

But  plumed,  and  just  ready  to  fly. 


84 


LAYS. 


3. 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  land  of  thy  bloom  and  thy 
birth, 

Though  here  was  thy  glory  begun  : 
Ah  !  why  hast  thou  left  us  a  desolate  earth, 

Ere  half  of  thy  journey  was  done  ? 
Ah  !  why  was  thy  spirit  so  eager  to  fly, 

And  lose  the  dear  shape  that  it  wore  ? 
Thou  hast  left  to  the  grave,  what  was  worthy  the 
sky, 

For  scarce  could  an  angel  be  more  ! 


SONG. 


Written  for  a  Swiss  Air. 
1. 

Weep  for  the  lovely,  that  are  fled, 

With  years  their  smiles  made  bright ; 
The  lovely  that  are  vanished, 

Like  unreturning  light ; 
Like  Stars  that  set  and  leave  no  ray, 

Like  Summer's  bloom  forgot, 
From  Earth  their  glory  died  away, 

But  Earth  remembers  not. 


CANZONET.  85 

2. 

How  still  they  slumber  'neath  the  turf, 

The  faded  spoil  of  grief ; 
The  sore-tossed  pearls  of  Ocean's  surf, 

The  forest's  withered  leaf ! 
Remembered — as  a  fancy  fled, 

Or  as  a  vanished  sound, 
Where  once  their  light  a  lustre  shed 

On  meaner  things  around  ! 

3. 

Weep  for  the  lovely,  sent  to  bless 

The  world's  unlovely  clime, 
And  oft,  in  all  their  loveliness 

To  fade  before  their  time  ; 
Made  often  in  their  guileless  years 

Some  soulless  mortal's  prey, 
To  feel  the  waste  of  secret  tears, 

And  all  the  heart's  decay  ! 


CANZONET. 


1. 

Love  like  theirs  was  never  lighted, 
With  a  season  to  be  blighted ; 


86  LAYS. 

It  was  deeper  than  emotion, 
Deep  as  their  deep  souls'  devotion, 
Fixed  in  their  fond  hearts  forever, 
Like  the  soul — to  perish  never. 

2. 

They  were  friends  in  that  sweet  season, 
When  the  heart  is  foe  to  Reason : 
Loving  fondly,  loving  kindly, 
Blind  to  fate — yet  loving  blindly  ; 
Happy  in  the  passing  minute  ; 
Naught  the  next,  though  Death  were  in  it. 

3. 

They  were  friends  whom  fortune  parted, 
Severing  sad  and  broken  hearted  : 
God's  own  law  their  trothal  hind'red, 
For  their  souls  were  near  a-kindred  ; 
Lovers  not — twin-children  rather 
Of  the  same  all-glorious  Father. 

4. 

Worlds  there  are,  above  all  sorrow, 
And  that  world  is  theirs  to-morrow  : 
There  where  love  is  brighter,  purer, 
Shall  their  friendship  be  the  surer ; 
And  when  dreary  life  is  over, 
Each  shall  be  the  happier  lover. 


oh  where's  the  hope.  87 


CAUTION. 

1. 

Break  not  tryste  with  tender  hearts, 

They  ask  not  oaths  for  trust ; 
A  look — a  smile — to  them  imparts 
What — answered  with  a  tear  that  starts, 
Is  sealed,  if  thou  art  just ! 

2. 

Learn  this  lesson,  not  too  late  ; 

'Twill  save  some  gentle  eye, 
That  often  at  her  garden  gate, 
Strains  sight  and  ear  to  watch  and  wait, 

And  droops — she  tells  not  why. 


OH   WHERE'S    THE    HOPE. 

1. 

Oh  where  's  the  hope  like  morning's  star,  that 

lit  my  childhood's  hours, 
And  smiled  upon  rny  dawn  of  life  like  sunrise 

over  flowers  ! 


88 


LAYS. 


'Tis  gone,  alas — or  faintly  seen,  is  as  a  rain- 
bow's ray, 

Far — far  afield!  and  as  I  chase,  the  phantom 
flies  away. 

2. 

Sure  never  have  I  been  too  young  to  sigh  o'er 

vanished  hopes  ; 
As  if  life's  wishes  all  were  made,  before  an 

eyelid  opes ! 
Sure  never  came  an  hour  to  me,  that  brought 

not  in  its  train, 
Some  blight  to  fair  and  fond  desire,  and  longings 

nursed  in  vain. 


3. 

They  dream  who  tell  of  life's  long  hours,  its 

brightest  is  its  first, 
When  o'er  the  sparkling  dews  of  youth,  the  hues 

of  morning  burst ; 
Those  morning  hues  dispel  the  mists  that  made 

its  flowers  so  gay, 
And  boyhood's  joys  are  only  bright,  as  they  are 
borne  away. 


1 

CANZONET. 

4. 

1 

89 

And  all  the  hopes  those  dews  inspired 

,  like  dews 

dissolve  in  air, 

And  melt  in  fickle  forms  away,   and  leave 

un- 

veiled  the  glare : 

And 

childhood  mourns  like  hoary  Eld  a  thou- 

sand pleasures  gone, 

And 

weeps  o'er  disappointed  hours, 
'tis  early  dawn ! 

5. 

while 

vet 

Oh  can  it  be  that  we   have  lived, 

before 

we 

wept  on  earth, 

And 

measured  out  our  spirit's  path, 
body's  birth ! 

before 

our 

Howe'er  it  be — the  babe  new-born, 

begins 

its 

life  with  tears, 

And 

age  that  weeps  o'er  childhood 
mimics  childhood's  years. 

gone, 

but 

CANZONET. 

To  the  Music  of  Von  Weber's  last  Waltz. 
1 

1. 

I'd  die  mid  soft  music, 

And  whispering  the  lay, 

90  LAYS. 

I'd  breathe  in  sweet  singing 

My  spirit  away. 
Bend  o'er  me,  though  weeping, 

Thou  beautiful  one 
With  thy  long  flowing  tresses 

Till  sinks  my  life's  sun  : 
Then  round  me,  ye  lovely, 

Sigh  sad  to  the  lute, 
And  warble  your  sorrow 

While  breathes  the  soft  flute. 
.    I'd  die,  &c. 

2. 

I've  lived  mid  the  lovely, 

And  dying,  I'd  hear 
The  voice  of  the  lovely 

Sound  last  on  mine  ear. 
In  life,  and  in  blooming 

I've  loved  the  soft  lyre, 
And  music  shall  soothe  me 

Till  faint  I  expire. 
Till  Earth's  music  failing 

I  join  as  I  rise, 
The  far  fading  echoes 

That  float  from  the  skies. 
I'd  die,  &c. 


I'VE    LEFT    THE    GIDDY    THRONG.         91 


I'VE    LEFT    THE    GIDDY 
THRONG. 

1. 

I've  left  the  giddy  throng : 

The  dance  is  o'er  :  mine  ear 
Hears  but  a  phantom  song, 

And  I  am  lonely  here. 
Oh,  in  the  dark  still  night 

When  shadows  round  us  be, 
How  vain  all  earth's  delight ! 

Whom  have  I,  Lord,  but  thee  ? 

2. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing 

To  be  with  self  alone  ; 
To  bear  a  closeting, 

With  conscience  on  her  throne  : 
For  who  but  feels,  when  still 

The  heavy  night  hangs  round, 
The  boding  dews  that  chill 

The  sleepers  under  ground  ! 


92 


LAYS. 


3. 

Oh,  who  but  thinks  how'  soon 

Such  sleep  his  own  must  be ; 
The  cold  damp  sod  aboon, 

And  earth-worms  feasting  free  : 
Oh,  who  but  feels  full  oft 

His  body  rotting  there, 
His  robes  of  beauty  doffed, 

The  winding-sheet,  his  wear ! 


4. 

And  who  but  trembles  then, 

At  what  we  dare  to  be, 
When  mixt  with  thoughtless  men, 

We  too  live  thoughtlessly  ! 
Poor  pilgrims  unto  death, 

Poor  insects  of  a  day, 
How  dare  we  spend  our  breath 

As  if  we  lived  for  aye. 


MARCH. 


93 


MARCH. 

Man  goeth  to  his  long  home. 
WORDS   TO   STRANGE   MUSIC. 

1. 

March — march — march ! 

Making  sounds  as  they  tread, 
Ho-ho  !  how  they  step. 

Going  down  to  the  dead  ! 
Every  stride,  every  tramp, 

Every  footfall  is  nearer; 
And  dimmer  each  lamp, 

As  darkness  grows  drearer : 
But  ho !  how  they  march, 

Making  sounds  as  they  tread  ; 
Ho-ho  !  how  they  step, 

Going  down  to  the  dead  ! 


2. 

March — march — march ! 

Making  sounds  as  they  tread, 
Ho-ho,  how  they  laugh, 

Going  down  to  the  dead  ! 


94  LAYS. 

How  they  whirl — how  they  trip, 

How  they  smile,  how  they  dally, 
How  blithesome  they  skip, 

Going  down  to  the  valley  ; 
Oh  ho,  how  they  march, 

Making  sounds  as  they  tread  ; 
Ho-ho,  how  they  skip, 

Going  down  to  the  dead ! 

3. 

March — march — march  ! 

Earth  groans  as  they  tread ! 
Each  carries  a  skull ; 

Going  down  to  the  dead  ! 
Eveiy  stride — every  stamp, 

Every  footfall  is  bolder  ; 
'Tis  a  skeleton's  tramp, 

With  a  skull  on  his  shoulder ; 
But  ho,  how  he  steps 

With  a  high  tossing  head, 
That  clay-covered  bone, 

Going  down  to  the  dead  ! 


LAKE    BYROM.  95 


LAKE    BYROM, 

la  the  County  of  Westchester,  N.  Y. 
1. 

By  thy  still  waters,  lonely  Lake, 

The  wild-dove  builds  her  hermit  home, 
And  there  her  matin-song  doth  make, 

Where  mornings  all  like  Sabbaths  come  : 
O'er  thee  she  flits  with  silent  wing, 

Or  lulls  thee  with  its  silken  sound, 
Thee — sleeping  like  a  holy  thing, 

And  hid  from  all  the  world  around. 

2. 

No  voice  along  thy  leafy  shore, 

But  nature's  hymns  are  rising  there, 
Nor  oft  the  echo-waking  oar 

Disturbs  thy  breast,  and  haunted  air  ! 
A  fane  upon  thy  water  side 

With  lights  ablaze  in  every  cell, 
How  bright  'twould  seem  at  even  tide, 

How  soft  be  heard  its  Vesper  Bell ! 


96  LAYS. 

3. 

By  thy  still  waters,  lonely  Lake, 

I  too  could  build  a  hermit  home, 
Where  mornings  all  like  Sabbaths  break, 

And  Earth's  alarm  can  never  come  ; 
And  there,  this  bosom,  Heavenly  Dove, 

A  cell  for  thy  repose  might  be, 
Forsaking  all  for  worlds  above, 

And  all  the  world  forsaking  me. 


STANZAS. 

Quae  nunc  abibis  in  loca. 
1. 

When  first  the  soul's  dark  chains  unbind, 
And  bursts  .from  clay  the  prison'd  mind, 
What  thoughts — what  visions  on  it  press, 
Floating  through  ether — bodiless, 
And  borne  away  in  calmest  air, 
Or  falling,  falling  to  despair, 

What  are  its  thoughts  to  find  it  there  ! 

2. 

Oh,  when  the  struggling  gasp  is  o'er, 
And  Earth  hath  naught  to  charm  it  more, 


STANZAS.  97 

And  it  is  free,  and  fixt  its  fate, 
Flitting  through  space — all  desolate, 
With  none  its  wilderment  to  share, 
In  silence  borne — it  knows  not  where, 

What  are  its  thoughts  to  find  it  there  ! 

3. 

Oh  rising,  when  it  first  doth  hear 
Heaven's  far-off  music  drawing  near, 
And  gazeth  now  on  heavenly  light, 
That  brighter  grows,  and  still  more  bright ; 
Oh,  when  it  gains  that  purer  air, 
And  first  beholds  those  regions  fair, 

What  are  its  thoughts  to  find  it  there  ' 

4. 

Or  sinking,  sinking,  when  more  near 
Deep  groans  assail  its  spirit  ear, 
And  Earth  is  gone — its  little  day 
Pass'd  as  a  slighted  drearnaway; 
When  round  it  frowns  at  length  the  glare, 
T  le  glimmering  darkness  of  despair, 

What  are  its  thoughts  to  find  it  there  ! 


98  •  LAYS. 


LAMENT. 

The  years  draw  nigh  when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure. 

Eccles. 

1. 

Years  are  coming  hither 

When  this  heart  so  gay, 
Much  I  fear  will  wither  ! 

Youth  is  gone  away. 
Men  are  brothers — brothers  ! 

Oh  !  I  tremble  then, 
Lest  I  grow  as  others 

Of  my  fellow-men. 

2. 

Those  of  whims  and  wrinkles, 

Once  were  blithe  as  I ; 
Heads  that  frost  besprinkles, 

Once  look'd  bonnily ; 
And  where  winter  lingers 

Upon  the  old  man's  curls, 
Have  play'd  the  taper  fingers 

Of  well-beloved  girls. 


LAMENT.  99 


3. 


Oh,  must  the  years  come  on  me 

When  these  are  no  delight ! 
Must  frost-work  fall  upon  me, 

And  deadliness  and  blight ; 
This  heart  that  loves  the  summer, 

Be  chilly  as  the  cold ; 
And  I  be  dim,  and  dumber 

Than  the  mummies  of  the  Old  ! 

4. 

And  am  I  surely  growing 

In  soul  and  senses  seal'd, 
Like  him  who,  all  unknowing, 

Is  frozen  and  congeal'd  ! 
I  know  it — ah,  I  know  it ; 

Of  all  the  world  'tis  true  ; 
And  the  fibres  of  the  poet 

Must  break — or  toughen  too. 


"■o* 


5. 

Thank  God  with  all  my  spirit 
For  my  only,  only  cheer, 

Since  I  learn'd  that  I  inherit 
A  destiny  so  drear. 


100 


LAYS. 


But  now  I  care  not  for  it, 
And  welcome  is  the  grave  ; 

Oh  why  should  I  abhor  it, 
Since  only  it  can  save  ! 

6. 

I've  seen  a  worm  that  weaveth 

His  shroud  as  with  delight ; 
Then  sleeps,  as  who  believeth, 

He  only  bids  good  night. 
Then  up  again  he  springeth, 

A  wing'd  and  elfin  form  ; 
Away,  away  he  wingeth, 

An  angel  from  a  worm  ! 

7. 

Wise  worm !  and  I,  his  brother, 

Will  learn  from  him  to  live  ! 
A  lesson  that  no  other 

So  beautiful  can  give. 
Oh,  weave  in  life  thy  swathing, 

And  then  in  Christ  repose  ! 
Who  maketh  life  a  plaything 

Is  born  to  many  woes. 


THE    ZENAIDA    DOVE.  101 


THE   ZENAIDA    DOVE. 

1. 

When  the  wounded  bucanier 

Moors  alone,  his  pirate  pro-re, 
Seeking,  in  his  flight  of  fear, 

Alabama's  woody  shore, 
Oft  reclined  at  heat  of  day, 

In  the  green  palmetto  grove, 
Sad,  he  lists  the  roundelay 

Of  the  sweet  Zenaida  Dove. 

2. 

He  is  far  from  kin  and  kind, 

He  has  seen  his  comrades  die  ; 
Now  the  bold  and  dark  of  mind, 

Is  as  dim  and  dark  of  eye. 
She  is  singing,  in  her  home, 

Innocent  and  soft  as  love  ; 
Ne'er  a  wish  or  wing  to  roam 

Hath  the  sweet  Zenaida  Dove. 


102 


LAYS. 


3. 

Then,  as  soft  the  carol  pours, 

Will  he  turn  his  languid  eye 
Round  the  cypress-shaded  shores, 

Feeling  it  is  hard  to  die. 
Tears,  as  gentle  as  a  child, 

Pay  the  minstrelsy  above, 
And  the  pirate's  heart  grows  mild, 

Listening  the  Zenaida  Dove. 

4. 

Lady,  when  mine  erring  heart 

Made  my  dark  and  gloomy  brow, 
We  had  been  for  years  apart, 

Guilty  I — but  holy  thou. 
But — by  chance,  we  met  agen, 

Thou  all  innocence  and  love  ! 
I  beheld  abash'd — and  then 

Thou  wast  my  Zenaida  Dove. 

5. 

Youth  was  fever  in  my  blood, 
And  a  frenzy  in  mine  eye  : 

Thou  hadst  bloomed  to  maidenhood, 
Guileless  all  as  infancy  : 


REMEMBER.  103 

Dear  thy  voice,  as  childhood  seemed, 
And  thine  eye  was  mild  as  love, 

"With  a  soft  rebuke  it  beamed  : 
Thou  wast  my  Zenaida  Dove. 


REMEMBER. 

Eccles.  xii. 
1. 

Remember  thy  Creator  now 

When  youth  and  years  are  bright, 
Ere  evil  days  draw  nigh,  when  thou 

Shalt  find  them  no  delight : 
Now,  when  the  moon  and  stars  above 

Are  pleasant  things  to  see  ; 
Now,  when  thy  days  are  soft  as  love, 

And  all  is  joy  and  glee. 

2. 

The  voice  of  song  and  mirth  must  cease, 

And  Music's  daughters  die  ; 
The  bird's  sweet  voice  be  hushed  to  peace, 

And  earth's  best  beauty  fly  ; 
And  almond  buds  shall  blossom  white, 

Where  now  thy  locks  are  dark, 
To  dim  thy  young  eye's  sapphire  light, 

Or  hyacinthine  spark. 


104 


LAYS. 


3. 

Or  ever  then  the  silver  cord 

Shall  loose  the  golden  bowl, 
Remember  thy  Creator  Lord 

With  overflowing  soul : 
For  dust  to  dust  must  mingle  then, 

And  Earth  its  earth  shall  claim, 
And  thy  free  spirit  flit  again 

To  God,  from  whom  it  came. 


-    CHRISTMAS. 

Written  in  1830. 
1. 

Hark,  through  the  skies  the  glad  anthem  is  ring- 
ing, 

The  glory  effulgent  of  heaven  is  shown ; 
Angels  of  light  the  loud  chorus  are  singing, 

Jehovah's  dear  son  the  Messiah,  to  own. 

2. 

Lo,  the  rude  Shepherds  their  flocks  while  attend- 
ing, 
And  wearied  of  watching,  are  startled  with 
fright ; 


— 1 

NATIVITY.  105 

For  see  a  bright  angel — in  clouds  is  descending, 
While  darkness  gives  place  to  a  heavenly  light ! 

3. 

And  hearken  the  message — good  tidings  I  bring ! 

The  Saviour  long  promised  in  Juda,  is  born  ; 
Oh  hasten  to  greet  him,  and  worship  your  king, 

Ere  burst  o'er  the  mountains,  the  beams  of  the 
morn. 

4. 

And  sudden,  all  heaven  with  melody  fired, 
In  rapt  adoration  the  chorus  prolong  : 

And  cherub,  and  seraph  with  rapture  inspired, 
The  glad  allelluia  attune  in  their  song : 

5. 

To  God  in  the  Highest  all  glory  be  given  ; 

And  peace  be  to  men  of  good-will  upon  earth, 
For  down  his  Redeemer  is  stooping  from  heaven, 

Rejoice  all  ye  lands — 'tis  the  morn  of  his 
birth. 


106 


LAYS. 


OH  WOULD  I  WERE  HAPPY. 

1833 
1. 

Oh  would  I  were  happy  !  If  wealth  can  but  buy 
The  favour  of  heaven,  and  peace  from  on  high, 
My  riches  I'll  give  to  the  helpless  and  poor, 
And  load  him  with  kindness,  that  begs  at  my 

door; 
The  widow  and  orphan  my  bounty  shall  share, 
And  all  the  afflicted  partake  of  my  care. 

2. 

Oh  would  I  were  happy  !  the  sorrows  and  cares, 
Which  each  new-born  hour  to  my  troubled  heart 

bears,  ' 

Disgust  me  with  all  the  gay  pleasures  of  earth, 
And  weary  me  with  its  vain-glory  and  mirth  ; 
If  penance  can  wash  out  my  guiltiness  deep, 
In  sackcloth  and  ashes  my  crimes  I  will  weep. 


But  hearken  !  what  voice  is  it  falls  on  mine  ear ! 
How  gracious  the  message,  the  tidings  how  dear ; 


OH    WOULD    I    WERE    HAPPY.  107 

'Tis  the  voice  of  the  Saviour  that  promiseth  rest, 
To  the  children  of  sorrow  in  mercy  addrest, 
Oh  hear  and  be  happy,  yes  happy  in  truth, 
'T  will  solace  thine  age,  and 't  will  strengthen  thy 
youth. 

4. 

Oh  come  to  the  waters  !  come  taste  of  the  wave, 

The  waters  of  life,  ever  potent  to  save  ! 

Who  drinks  of  this  fountain,  shall  thirst  never 

more  : 
It  springeth  within,  till  his  journey  is  o'er ; 
Ho  !  each  one  that  thirsteth  ;  the  lofty,  the  low, 
Come  all  to  the  fount  I  have  bidden  to  flow. 


Oh  these  are  the  tidings  so  sweet  to  mine  ear  ; 
My  sorrows  are  vanished,  my  spirit  is  clear  ! 
Mine  alms  are  worth  little  ;  my  labour  is  vain, 
My  penance,  unable  this  peace  to  obtain  ; 
The  treasures  of  Ophir,  too  poor  a  reward, 
To  purchase  this  peace — 'tis  the  gift  of  the 
Lord. 


108 


LAYS. 


THE   MIRAGE. 

1833. 
1. 

Oft  in  the  desert  dreary 

A  stream,  the  pilgrim  spies, 
And  joyous  then,  though  weary, 

He  speedeth  to  the  prize  : 
But  onward  as  he  goeth, 

The  stream,  the  shining  stream 
Is  vanish'd,  and  he  knoweth 

'Twas  but  an  idle  dream. 


2. 

So  pleasure,  bright  appearing. 

Oft  tempts  frail  man  astray  : 
And  off,  with  joy  careering, 

He  runs  his  giddy  way  : 
But  ah  too  soon  perceiveth, 

How  false  she  is,  and  vain  : 
Her  painted  face  deceiveth, 

And  cheats  us  into  pain. 


MED1TATT0N.  109 

3. 

Oh  pleasure  !  What  is  pleasure  ! 

A  phantom  of  the  mind  ; 
We  seize  it  as  a  treasure, 

'Tis  emptiness  we  find  : 
The  heart  for  pleasure  sigheth, 

But  who  hath  pleasure  known  ! 
Ere  it  is  born,  it  dieth  ; 

Ere  it  is  caught — 'tis  flown  ! 


MEDITATION. 

1833. 
1. 

When  evening  from  the  starry  skies, 

Its  blessed  dews  doth  send, 
And  all  the  landscape  stilly  lies, 

Calm  contemplation's  friend : 
Oh,  then  when  moonlight  beams  are  shed, 

And  gales  so  quiet  blow, 
And  when  from  heaven's  fountain-head 

Such  varied  mercies  flow ; 

2. 

Dear  Saviour,  bending  at  thy  throne, 
*T  is  then  my  prayer  I  pour, 


110  LAYS. 

'T  is  then  my  sorrows  all  I  own, 
And  weep  while  I  adore  : 

'T  is  then  I  know  the  starry  skies 
Will  listen  to  my  prayer, 

Accept  my  spirit's  sacrifice, 
And  charm  away  despair. 


LINES. 

1833. 
1. 

As  o'er  the  desert's  scorching  sands 

The  Arab  pilgrim  strays, 
And  pants  for  green  Idume's  lands, 

Beneath  the  sultry  rays  : 

2 

As  he  her  spicy  hills  desires, 
With  flocks,  and  fruitage  graced, 

And  onward  hastens  through  the  fires 
That  parch  the  dreary  waste  ; 

3. 

So,  pilgrim  through  Earth's  desert  wild, 

As  fainting,  and  o'erspent, 
Thou  too  art  travelling,  and  exiled, 

And  in  the  noontide  bent. 


HYMN.  Ill 

4. 

Oh  think  not  of  the  dismal  earth, 

But  stretch  thy  longing  eyes, 
To  hills,  and  homes  of  holy  mirth, 

That  in  the  distance  rise. 

5. 

Then  take  fresh  courage  to  thy  soul, 

And  onward  speed  thy  way  ; 
For  there  the  living  waters  roll, 

And  there  is  endless  day  ! 


HYMN. 

1834. 
1. 

Soldier,  to  the  contest  pressing, 
Onward,  let  thy  watchword  be  ; 

God  upon  thee  pours  his  blessing ; 
What  though  man  derideth  thee  ! 


*o* 


2. 

Onward,  though  the  faggot 's  burning, 
By  thy  pathway's  only  light : 

Onward,  death  and  danger  spurning  : 
Onward  in  the  path  of  right ! 


112 


lavs: 


3. 


God,  for  all  thy  wants  providing, 
Armor  trusty  hath  for  thee  ; 

Gird  thyself,  in  him  confiding, 
With  the  goodly  panoply  : 

4. 

Righteousness  thy  breast  defending, 
And  thy  feet  with  justice  shod  : 

Onward  ;  with  the  foe  contending, 
Wield  thv  sword,  the  word  of  God. 


5. 


Thine  the  helmet  of  salvation, 
Faith  thy  mighty  shield  shall  be  ; 

And  let  prayer  and  supplication, 
Lance,  and  glorious  faulchion  be 


6. 

Still  the  standard  o'er  thee  streaming 
Be  the  banner  pure,  of  love, 

Where  in  glorious  blazon  beaming, 
Float  thy  pinions,  Holy  Dove  ! 


HYMN.  113 

7. 

Onward  then,  with  bold  contending, 

In  the  path  the  martyrs  trod : 
God  to  thee  his  strength  is  lending ; 

Onward,  in  the  strength  of  God 


HYMN. 

1. 

Oh,  shine,  my  Redeemer, 

My  light  o'er  my  way  ! 
For  faint  is  the  pilgrim, 

And  lone,  and  astray. 
No  ray  o'er  the  desert. 

No  light  from  afar, 
Shine  forth  in  thy  glory, 

Bright  Bethlehem's  Star ! 

2. 

Long  blazed  the  fierce  sunlight, 

And  toiling  I  went ; 
Now  night  falleth  chilling, 

My  courage  is  spent : 

8 


114  lays: 


These  shadows  of  darkness, 
How  fearful  they  are  ! 

Shine  forth  in  thy  glory, 
Bright  Bethlehem's  Star' 


'T  is  said — and  the  midnight 

Is  breaking  away  : 
See,  soft  through  the  shadows, 

Pours  mercy's  mild  ray  ! 
Now  smileth  the  pilgrim 

To  greet  thee  from  far ; 
All  hail  to  thy  glory, 

Bright  Bethlehem's  Star  ! 


HOME    MUSIC. 

1. 

Let  Music  lull  thee,  spirit  mine, 
And  songs  and  harmonies  divine, 

When  thou  art  sore  distrest ! 
The  viol  and  the  tabret  bring, 
With  lute  and  lyre  of  magic  string 

That  charm  the  soul  to  rest, 
And  harps  whose  holy  carolling 

Becalms  the  breast. 


HOME    MUSIC.  115 

2. 

And  let  some  angel  shape  be  near, 
With  dewy  lip,  and  voice  as  dear, 

All  loveliness  and  soul, 
To  wake  the  choids,  and  shed  along 
The  joy  of  bosom-heaving  song, 

And  music's  rippling  roll ; 
While  warbling  their  enchantment  strong, 

Soft  flutes  condole. 

3. 

Let  music  lull  thee,  spirit  mine, 
Sweet  music,  and  the  dear  eyes'  shine, 

Of  gentle  ones  we  love  ! 
From  Eden,  when  poor  Eve  was  driven, 
Sweet  music  by  our  God  was  given 

With  her  the  world  to  rove, 
And  lure  her  children  back  to  Heaven, 

Her  home  above  ! 


116  LAYS. 


TO    ALL  THAT'S   GLORIOUS 
AND    BRIGHT. 

He  hath  made  everything-  beautiful  in  his  time. 

Eccles.  iii.  11. 

1. 

To  all  that 's  glorious  and  bright 

The  poet  vows  his  shell ; 
To  youth,  and  beauty's  fair  delight, 

And  fancy's  warmer  spell : 
The  world  of  loveliness  is  his, 

And  his  the  summer's  bloom, 
And  his  the  wildwood's  harmonies, 

And  birds  of  faery  plume. 

2. 

These  lovely  things,  like  him,  must  die  ! 

They  vanish  while  he  sings  ; 
And  what  has  pleased  the  poet's  eye, 

Must  grieve  his  pensive  strings. 
And  ever  was  his  song — a  tear, 

A  sigh  for  beauty  fled  : 
And  harps  that  woke  to  charm  and  cheer, 

Must  soon  lament  the  dead  ! 


TO    ALL    THAT  's    GLORIOUS. 


117 


3. 


I've  seen  the  loveliness  I  loved, 

Like  frailest  flowers  decay  : 
And  while  the  Spring's  young  joys  I  proved, 

My  spring-time  passed  away. 
And  boyhood's  mirth  is  but  a  name, 

Ere  boyhood's  tears  are  dried, 
And  hopes  in  golden  hues  that  came, 

Like  golden  dreams  have  died. 


And  false  thy  promise,  empty  Earth, 

I  trust  thy  show  no  more  ; 
I  've  learned  of  my  immortal  birth, 

And  spurn  this  stranger  shore  ; 
And  Heaven,  my  home,  my  haven  bright, 

To  Heaven  be  vowed  my  shell  ; 
My  soul  to  its  inspiring  light, 

And  fancy's  hallowed  spell. 


118  LAYS. 


THERE    IS    A   LAND. 

And  1  said,  O  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  then  would  1  fly 

away  and  be  at  rest ! 

Psalter. 

1. 

There  is  a  land,  like  Eden  fair, 

But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 
The  wicked  cease  from  troubling  there, 

The  weary  are  at  rest. 

2. 

There  is  a  land  of  calmest  shore, 
Where  ceaseless  summers  smile, 

And  winds,  like  angel  whispers,  pour 
Across  the  shining  isle. 

3. 

There  is  a  land  of  purest  mirth, 

Where  healing  waters  glide  ; 
And  there  the  wearied  child  of  Earth 

Untroubled  may  abide. 


THERE    IS    A    LAND.  119 

4. 

There  is  a  land,  where  Sorrow's  sons, 
Like  ocean's  wrecks,  are  tossed  ; 

But  there  revive  those  weeping  ones, 
And  Life's  dull  sea  is  crossed ! 

5. 

There  is  a  land,  where  small  and  great 

Before  the  Lord  appear, 
The  spoils  of  fortune,  and  of  fate, 

Whom  Heaven  alone  can  cheer. 

6. 

There  is  a  land,  where  slar-like  shine 
The  pearls  of  Christ's  renown  : 

And  gems,  long  buried  in  the  mine, 
Are  jewels  in  his  crown. 

7. 

There  is  a  land,  like  Eden  fair, 

But  more  than  Eden  blest ; 
Oh  !  for  a  wing  to  waft  me  there, 

To  fly,  and  be  at  rest ! 


120  LAYS. 


THE    HEART'S    SONG. 

Behold  1  stand  at  the  door. 
1. 

In  the  silent  midnight  watches, 

List  thy  bosom-door ; 
How  it  knocketh — knocketh — knocketh, 

Knocketh  evermore  ! 
Say  not  'tis  thy  pulse's  beating, 

'Tis  thy  heart  of  sin  ; 
'Tis  thy  Saviour  stands  entreating, 

Rise  and  let  me  in. 

2. 

Death  comes  down  with  equal  footstep 

To  the  hall  and  hut ; 
Think  you  Death  will  stand  a-knocking 

Where  the  door  is  shut ! 
Jesus  waiteth — waiteth — waiteth  ; 

But  thy  door  is  fast : 
Griev'd,  at  length  away  he  turneth ; 

Death  breaks  in  at  last ! 


LAMENT.  121 

3. 

Then  'tis  thine  to  stand  entreating 

Christ  to  let  thee  in  ; 
At  the  door  of  Heaven  beating, 

Wailing  for  thy  sin. 
Nay,  alas,  thou  foolish  virgin, 

Hast  thou  then  forgot, 
Jesus  waited  long  to  know  thee, 

But — he  knows  thee  not ! 


LAMENT. 

From  the  Latin  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 
1. 

Oh  blessed,  my  Jesu, 
I  Ve  trusted  in  thee  ; 

Oh  Saviour,  my  Jesu, 
Now  liberate  me. 

In  horrible  prison 

And  gloom  have  arisen, 
My  sighs,  oh  my  Jesu,  incessant  to  thee  ; 

But,  oh  on  my  sorrow, 

Has  brightened  no  morrow, 
Yet  hear  me,  my  Jesu,  and  liberate  me. 


122  LAYS. 

2. 

Oh  blessed,  my  Jesu, 

I  've  trusted  in  thee, 
And  still  will  I  trust  thee, 

To  liberate  me. 
And  so,  while  I  languish, 
I  cry  in  my  anguish, 
Adoring,  imploring  and  bending  the  knee  ; 
In  sorrow  and  tremor, 
Oh  blessed  Redeemer, 
Smile  on  me  from  Heaven,  and  liberate  me  ! 


IN    RADIANCE    HE     CAME. 

And  when  Aaron  and  all  the  children  of  Israel  saw  Moses,  be- 
hold the  skin  of  his  face  shone  ;  and  they  were  afraid. 

Exod.  xxxiv.  30. 

1. 

In  radiance  he  came  from  the  mount  where  he 

bowed, 
To  talk  with  the  Lord  in  the  veil  of  the  cloud ; 
And  light  flashed  before  him,  as  trembling  he 

trod, 
From  the  mountain  that  quaked  at  the  coming  of 

God. 


IN    RADIANCE    HE    CAME.  123 

2. 

'Twas    Israel's    Prophet — oh    breathe  not    his 

name, 
Who  talked  with  the  Lord  till  his  visage  was 

flame  ; 
Whose  brow  with  the  smile  of  Jehovah  did  glow, 
And  shone  with  the  blaze  of  his  glory  below  ! 

3. 

Oh,  bright  as  the  mercy-seat  dazzling  afar, 
He  rose  on  the  night  of  the  vale  like  a  star, 
And  dread  was  the  sight  to  the  recreant's  mirth, 
Who  praised  his  grim  idol,  while  God  was  on 
earth. 

4. 

Then  flew  the  swift  shudder  electric,  of  fear, 
And  stole  the  breath-whisper  of  guilt  on  the  ear, 
And  the  dancer  was  dumb  at  his  orgies  abhorr'd 
And  the  renegade  priest  knew  the  friend  of  the 
Lord. 

And  the  virgins  of  Judah  are  lightsome  of  limb, 
As  they  whirl  round  the  Calf  to  a  love-breathing 
hymn , 


124 


LAYS. 


And  the  damsel's  swift  heel  hath  a  language  that 

speaks, 
And  the  hue  of  her  heart  flushes  warm  on  her 

cheeks. 

6. 

A  moment — and  mute  as  the  startled  gazelle, 
All  wild  is  her  eye— rthe  dark  eye  of  her  spell ! 
And  breaks  the  frail  ring  o'er  the  dance  beaten 

sod, 
Like  flowers  dropping  pale  from  their  garlanded 

god. 

7. 

So  dazzling  the  beauty  of  holiness  bright ! 
The  glory  of  goodness — the  wonderful  light ! 
So,  Lord,  would  I  shine  from  my  converse  above, 
So  shed  on  the  nations  the  light  of  thy  love. 

8. 

And  so  from  the  mountains,  the  height  of  my 

prayer, 
Where  dwelling  with  thee,  it  was  good  to  be 

there, 
Grant,  Lord,  I  may  stoop  to  the  valleys  below, 
With  visage  all  radiant,  and  features  that  glow. 


STILL    AS    OUR    DAY.  125 


LAMENT    OF    THE    VIRGINS. 

And  it  was  a  custom  in  Israel,  that  the  daughters  of  Israel 

went  yearly  to  lament  the  daughter  of  Jephtha,  the  Gileadite,  four 

days  in  a  year. 

Judges,  xi.  40. 

1. 

Oh,  of  dance  and  song  the  pride, 

Jephtha's  daughter,  young  and  fair, 
Never  now  the  wreath  of  bride, 

Ne'er  the  bridal  veil  shall  wear  ! 
Ne'er  with  cymbals  light  advancing, 

Shall  she  greet  her  true  love  home, 
Never  in  the  valleys  dancing, 

Bound  like  Ocean's  purest  foam. 
Never  shall  she  whisper — never, 

Vows  that  bind  the  Hebrew  maid ; 
Hers  from  all  the  world  to  sever, 

Hers  the  hermit  cell  and  shade. 

2- 
Oh,  of  song  and  dance  the  pride, 

Jephtha's  daughter,  young  and  fair ; 
She  should  be  a  hero's  bride, 

She  a  hero  son  should  bear. 


126 


I.  AYS. 


But  her  fortune  is  another, 

She  shall  ne'er  love's  worship  know  ; 

Ne'er  a  babe  shall  call  her  mother, 
Nestled  on  her  breast  of  snow  ; 
She  hath  gone  from  spring  and  fountain  ; 

She  hath  vanished  from  ihe  rills; 
Lone  she  wanders  on  ihe  mountain, 
And  her  home  is  on  the  hills. 

3. 

Oh,  of  dance  arid  SOng  the  pride, 
Jephtha's  daughter,  young  and  fair, 

Jn  the  mount  she  must,  abide, 

And   her  virgin  vestments  wear. 

There  her  foot  that  bounded  lightly, 

Paint  wild  maiden  Step  shall  go  J 
And  her  danee  that,  was  so  sprightly, 

To  a  pensive  gliding  grow. 
She  shall  bend  'mid  caverns  praying, 

lake  a  flower  that  trembles  there, 

Whih:  anear  the  wild  fox  haying, 
Breaks  alone  the  silent  air. 


A. 

Oh,  of  son^  and  dance  the  pride, 
Jephtha's  daughter,  young  and  fair; 


LAMENT    OF     THE    VIRGINS.  127 

Angels  with  her  shall  abide, 

Angels  smile  upon  her  prayer. 
Angels  there  shall  be  her  lovers, 

In  such  love  as  angels  use  ; 
While  each  wing  that  o'er  her  hovers, 

Sheds  around  celestial  dews  ; 
Angels  there,  that  cheer  her  sighing, 

Shall  her  loneliness  beguile, 
And  the  wings  that  shade  her  dying, 

Waft  her  to  the  happy  isle. 

Oh,  of  dance  and  song  the  pride, 

Jephtha's  daughter,  young  and  fair ; 
Weep  for  her  that  doth  abide 

On  the  lonely  mountain  there. 
Many  flowers  like  her  have  perished 

E'er  their  scented  buds  could  ope  \ 
But  no  flower  was  e'er  so  cherished, 

Ne'er  like  her  a  hero's  hope. 
Many  maids  have  gone  to  slaughter, 

But  they  ne'er  so  lovely  were  : 
Weep,  oh  weep  for  Jephtha's  daughter, 

Weep  ye  lovely,  weep  for  her. 


128  LAYS. 


THE  LAST  PLAGUE  OF   EGYPT. 

1. 

Deep  night  o'er  thy  waters,  thou  dark-rolling 

Nile, 
And  the  Hebrew  sleeps  trembling,  his  lord  with 

a  smile, 
For  a  voice  comes  in  dreams  to  the  children  of 

God: 
But  the  proud  have   no  whisper  that  Death  is 

abroad ! 


So,  nestled  in  rocks,  when  the  whirlwind  is  nigh, 
They  hear  its  far  coming — the  birds  of  the  sky  ! 
While  trees  it  must  shiver  in  leaf  and  in  form, 
Are  hush  as  the  stillness  that  heralds  the  storm. 

3. 

And  the  Memphian,  at  midnight,  lay  smiling  and 

pleased, 
His  sin  all  unshriven,  his  God  unappeas'd, 


THE    LAST    PLAGUE     OF    EGYPT. 


129 


Till  o'er  his  dark  slumbejj|  chill  shadows  were 

curl'd, 
And  the  soul  of  the  dreamer  was  far  from  the 

world. 


And  he  lay  in  the  coils  of  the  death-spirit,  mute, 
With  a  seal  on  his  lips,  like  the  blast  in  the  fruit : 
And  he  seem'd  as  when  hoar-frost  hath  stiffen'd 

the  flower ; 
'T  was  the  blight  of  the  Lord,  't  was  the  touch  of 

his  power. 

5. 

But  still  was  the  starlight — while,  shrouded  and 

hid, 
Death  brooded  o'er  palace,  and  cold  pyramid ; 
Xo  voice  on  the  midnight ;  no  larum  of  wrath ; 
No  sound  of  the  whirlwind — but  only  its  path. 


6. 

And  a  cry  was  in  Egypt,  when  rose  the  red  morn, 
For  a  thousand  pale  mothers  bewail'd  their  first 

born ; 
And  Memnon's  sweet  music  that  greeted  the  Sun, 
Was  lost  in  the  moan  of  a  nation  undone. 


130 


LAYS. 


•7. 

And  shriek'd  the  young  wife  o'er  the  child  of  her 

pain, 
That  never  should  breathe  on  her  bosom  again  ; 
And  breasts  that  were  warm  with  their  nursling 

before, 
But  heaved,  in  their  grief,  for  the  boy  that  she  bore. 

8. 

And  the  bride  shrunk  aghast,  like  the  death- 
stricken  dove, 

When  she  woke  in  the  cold  frozen  clasp  of  her 
love  : 

And  a  groan  for  the  noble,  the  lovely  outpour'd, 

A  wail  for  the  battle  they  waged  with  the  Lord. 

9. 

And  they  seem'd  like  the  willows,  that,  left  on 

the  steep, 
Are  bent  o'er  the  wreck  of  the  forest  to  weep, 
Or  lilies  that  dripping,  and  drooping  of  form, 
Shed  tears  o'er  the  broken,  the  spoil  of  the  storm. 

10. 

Ye  join  not  the  wailing,  ye  dwellers  of  Zan  ! 
Hath  the  death-angel  spared  ye,  that  smote  as  he 
ran? 


HYMN    TO    THE    REDEEMER.  131 

Oh,  the  blood-sprinkled  lintel  hath  stayed  his 

proud  reign, 
And  watched  at  your  threshhold  the  Lamb  that 

was  slain. 


HYMN    TO   THE    REDEEMER 

1. 

When  o'er  Judea's  vales  and  hills, 
Or  by  her  olive-shaded  rills, 
Thy  weary  footsteps  went  of  old, 
Or  walked  the  lulling  waters  bold, 
How  beauteous  were  the  marks  divine, 
That  in  thy  meekness  used  to  shine, 
That  lit  thy  lonely  pathway,  trod 
In  wondrous  love,  O  Lamb  of  God  ! 

2. 
Oh  !  who  like  thee,  so  calm,  so  bright, 
Thou  Holy  child,  Thou  Light  of  Light, 
Oh  !  who  like  thee,  did  ever  go 
So  patient,  through  a  world  of  wo, 
Oh  !  who  like  thee,  so  humbly  bore 
The  scorn,  the  scoffs  of  men  before, 
So  meek,  so  lovely — yet  so  high, 
So  glorious  in  humility  ! 


132  LAYS. 

3. 

The  morning  saw  thee,  like  the  day, 
Forth  on  thy  light-bestowing  way  ; 
And  evening  in  her  holy  hues, 
Shed  down  her  sweet  baptismal  dews, 
Where  bending  angels  stoop'd  to  see, 
The  lisping  infant  clasp  thy  knee, 
And  smile,  as  in  a  father's  eye, 
Upon  thy  mild  Divinity  ! 

4. 

The  hours  when  princes  sought  their  rest 
Beheld  thee,  still,  no  chamber's  guest ; 
But  when  the  chilly  night  hung  round, 
And  man  from  thee,  sweet  slumber  found, 
Thy  wearied  footsteps  sought,  alone, 
The  mountain  to  thy  sorrows  known, 
And  darkness  heard  thy  patient  prayer, 
Or  hid  thee,  in  the  prowler's  lair. 

5. 

And  all  thy  life's  unchanging  years, 
A  man  of  sorrows,  and  of  tears, 
The  cross,  where  all  our  sins  were  laid, 
Upon  thy  bending  shoulders  weigh'd  ; 
And  death,  that  sets  the  pris'ner  free, 
Was  pang,  and  scoff,  and  scorn  to  thee  ; 


HYMN    TO    THE     REDEEMER.  133 

Yet  love  through  all  thy  torture  glow'd, 
And  mercy  with  thy  life-blood  flovv'd. 

6. 

O  wondrous  Lord  !  my  soul  would  be 
Still  more  and  more  conform'd  to  thee, 
Would  lose  the  pride,  the  taint  of  sin, 
That  burns  these  fever'd  veins  within, 
And  learn  of  Thee,  the  lowly  One, 
And  like  thee,  all  my  journey  run, 
Above  the  world,  and  all  its  mirth, 
Yet  weeping  still  with  weeping  earth. 

7. 

Oh  !  in  thy  light,  be  mine  to  go, 
Illuming  all  my  way  of  wo  ; 
And  give  me  ever,  on  the  road, 
To  trace  thy  footsteps,  O  my  God  ! 
My  passions  lull,  my  spirit  calm, 
And  make  this  lion-heart  a  lamb  ; 
And  give  me,  all  my  life,  to  be 
A  sacrifice  to  love  and  thee  ! 


134  LAYS. 


STANZAS. 

When  1  awake  up  after  Thy  likeness  1  shall  be  satisfied. 

1. 

But  who  can  tell  what  joys  shall  make 

The  peace,  the  bliss,  the  love  of  Heaven  ! 
Lord  in  thy  likeness  let  me  wake 

And  rise  in  all  thy  light,  forgiven  ! 
Else  darker  than  this  dreary  earth, 

Our  long  undying  years  shall  be, 
And  who  shall  bear  his  second  birth 

To  worse  than  Time — Eternity  ! 

2. 

Lord,  in  thy  likeness  let  me  wake, 

So  shall  my  soul  be  satisfied, 
When  from  the  mouldering  tomb  I  break, 

And  see  in  clouds,  the  Lamb  that  died  ; 
As  roamed  the  dove  the  deluge  dark, 

My  spirit  roams  Life's  troubled  sea, 
But  thou  shalt  be  the  wanderer's  ark, 

That  knows  no  rest,  till  home  with  Thee. 


STANZAS. 


135 


STANZAS. 


They  (hat  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength. 


Years  cannot  make  their  strength  decay 

Who  lean  upon  the  Lord, 
Nor  age  fling  shadows  o'er  the  way 

That's  lighted  by  his  word  : 
Their  path  doth  bright  and  brighter  shine 

Till  perfect  in  the  skies  ; 
And  life's  soft  eve  is  no  decline, 

For  heavenward  still  they  rise. 


2. 

When  winter's  might  hath  rent  the  oak, 

Or  summer  blights  its  shoot, 
The  streams  of  God  can  heal  the  stroke 

And  sprout  its  deathless  root : 
And  souls  that  have  the  fountain  quaffed 

Of  Christ's  world-healing  side, 
Arise  immortal  from  the  draught, 

And  live  through  Him  that  died. 


136  LAYS. 


BUT    THOU    OH    LORD. 

My  Father,  thou  art  the  guide  of  my  youth. 
1. 

But  Thou,  oh  Lord,  shalt  be  my  guide 

Through  all  my  dreary  way, 
And  down  the  vale  of  death  beside 

Thy  staff  shall  be  my  stay. 
To  thee  alone  I  '11  lift  mine  eye 

When  snares  have  made  me  fall ; 
To  Thee,  when  low  in  grief  I  lie, 

From  lowest  deeps  I  '11  call. 

2.       ' 

And  oh,  on  Thee  in  every  hour 

Of  sunshine  or  of  shade, 
The  soul  that  feels  thy  varied  power, 

Shall  call  for  varied  aid  ; 
So  shalt  thou  lead  me  in  the  light 

That  round  thy  saints  is  cast, 
O'er  Jordan's  flood,  to  Zion's  height, 

And  home  to  Heaven  at  last. 


STILL    AS    OUR    DAY.  137 


VERSES. 

He  shall  sit  as  a  refiner. 
1. 

As  o'er  the  flame  that  proves  his  gold, 
The  artist  bends  with  careful  mind, 

Till  mirror'd  there,  he  may  behold 
His  features  in  the  ore  refined  ; 

2. 

So  oft  doth  God  his  children  prove, 
When  burns  the  fierce  refining  flame, 

Till  glows  the  image  of  his  love, 
And  in  the  heart,  he  reads  his  name. 


STILL    AS     OUR    DAY. 

As  thy  days  so  shall  thy  strength  be. 
1. 

Still  as  our  days  our  strength  shall  be, 
While  still,  good  Lord,  we  trust  in  Thee ; 
While  on  Thy  promise  we  depend, 
Our  Saviour,  brother,  father,  friend, 


138  LAYS. 

Our  great  High  Priest,  to  whom  were  known 
Temptations,  troubles,  like  our  own, 
Who  can  be  touched  with  mortal  care, 
For  Thou  didst  all  our  sorrows  bear. 


2. 


Oh  Lamb  of  God,  the  world  on  Thee, 
Hath  laid  her  deep  infirmity  ; 
And  in  the  cross  that  weighed  Thee  down, 
The  bitter  scourge,  the  thorny  crown, 
Thou  all  her  griefs,  and  all  her  fears, 
Didst  bear  through  all  thine  earthly  years, 
The  guiltless,  for  the  guilty  one, 
For  man,  the  Everlasting  Son. 

3. 

Oh  Saviour  mine,  how  great  the  love, 
That  brought  thee  from  thy  throne  above ! 
That  love,  what  seraph's  lyre  can  tell, 
That  wondrous  love,  unspeakable  ! 
So  infinite,  so  all  divine, 
Unlike  all  other  love  but  thine, 
Like  none  but  Jesu,  none  but  Thee 
Thou  bleeding  Lamb  of  Calvary  ! 


THERE  's    NOT    A    CLOUD.  139 


Give  me,  Thou  glorious  Lamb  of  God, 
Daily  to  walk,  where  Thou  hast  trod, 
And  in  adoring  rapture  grow, 
As  in  thy  lowly  steps  I  go. 
Give  me  to  ponder,  more  and  more, 
Thy  word's,  and  thy  example's  lore, 
That  walking  here,  my  God  with  Thee, 
Still  as  my  days  my  strength  may  be. 


THERE'S    NOT    A    CLOUD. 

Heaviness  may  endure  for  a  night. 
1. 

There  's  not  a  cloud  that  floats  below 

Can  quench  the  Star  of  Day, 
And  vain  the  vapors  earth  can  throw 

To  reach  the  heavenly  ray  ; 
And  fast  before  the  orient  flame 

The  mists  of  morning  flee  ; 
And  so  our  Father  is  the  same, 

Though  dark  our  souls  may  be. 


r 


140 


LAYS. 


2. 

And  He  will  clear  the  deepest  night 

That  clouds  his  children's  sky, 
And  bid  the  dullest  tear  be  bright, 

That  dims  the  doubting  eye. 
On  storms  where  yet  the  lightnings  gleam 

His  rainbows  often  play, 
And  brighter  is  the  moonlight's  beam 

As  tempest  breaks  away. 


OH    WALK    WITH    GOD 


And  Enoch  walked  with  God. 


1. 


Oh  walk  with  God,  and  thou  shalt  find 

How  he  'can  charm  thy  way, 
And  lead  thee  with  a  quiet  mind" 

Into  his  perfect  day. 
His  love  shall  cheer  thee,  like  the  dew 

That  bathes  the  drooping  flower, 
That  love  is  every  morning  new, 

Nor  fails  at  evening's  hour. 


OH    WALK    WITH    GOD. 


141 


2. 

Oh  walk  with  God,  and  thou  with  smiles 

Shalt  tread  the  way  of  tears, 
His  mercy  every-  ill  beguiles, 

And  softens  all  our  fears. 
No  fire  shall  harm  thee,  if  alas 

Through  fires  He  bid  thee  go  ; 
Through  waters,  when  thy  footsteps  pass, 

They  shall  not  overflow. 


Oh  walk  with  God,  while  thou  on  earth, 

With  pilgrim  steps  must  fare, 
Content,  to  leave  the  world  its  mirth, 

And  claim  no  dwelling  there. 
A  stranger,  thou  must  seek  a  home, 

Beyond  the  fearful  tide, 
And  if  to  Canaan  thou  would'st  come, 

Oh  who  but  God  can  guide  ! 


4. 

Oh  walk  with  God,  and  thou  shalt  go 
Down  death's  dark  vale  in  light, 

And  find  thy  faithful  walk  below 
Hath  reached  to  Z ion's  height ! 


142  LAYS. 

Oh  walk  with  God,  if  thou  would'st  see 
Thy  pathway  thither  tend  : 

And  lingering  though  thy  journey  be, 
'Tis  heaven  and  home  at  end  ! 


THE    LAND   OF    BEULAH. 

1. 

Oh  native  clime  where'er  afar 

Thy  promised  glories  shine, 
Thou  city  of  the  Holy  One, 

Of  Jesu's  friends  and  mine  ; 
For  thee  my  exile  soul  doth  pant, 

And  from  this  far  abode, 
Would  stretch  the  pinions  of  a  dove, 

And  mount  to  meet  its  God. 

2. 

Oh  there  the  weary  wing  shall  rest 

That  cannot  rest  below, 
And  there  its  earth-stained  plumage  bathe, 

Where  living  waters  flow ; 
There  shall  the  lips  life's  fountain  quaff, 

That  parch  in  deserts  here, 
And  there  these  eyes  the  Lord  behold, 

And  know  no  more  a  tear. 


HYMN    IN    HOLY    WEEK.  143 

3. 

Oh  happy  home,  oh  native  seat, 

Thou  only  home  for  me, 
Thou  city  where  my  portion  is, 

Where  my  true  kindred  be  ; 
What  joy  within  my  bosom  thrills, 

That  I  shall  soon  be  there, 
Though  last  and  least,  yet  one  with  them, 

That  crowns  of  glory  wear  ! 


HYMN    IN    HOLY    WEEK. 

1. 

W^ho  is  this,  with  garments  gory, 

Triumphing  from  Bozrah's  way  ; 
This,  that  weareth  robes  of  glory, 

Bright,  with  more  than  vict'ry's  ray  ; 
Who  is  this  unwearied  comer, 

From  his  journey's  sultry  length, 
Travelling  through  Idume's  summer, 

In  the  greatness  of  his  strength  ! 

2. 

Wherefore  red  in  thine  apparel, 
Like  the  conquerors  of  Earth, 


144  LAYS. 

And  arrayed  like  those  who  carol 
O'er  the  reeking  vineyard's  mirth  ; 

Who  art  thou,  the  valleys  seeking, 
Where  our  peaceful  harvests  wave  ! 

I — in  righteous  anger  speaking, 
I — the  mighty  One  to  save. 

3. 

I,  that  of  the  raging  heathen 

Trod  the  wine-press  all  alone, 
Now  in  victor-garlands  wreathen, 

Coming  to  redeem  my  own  : 
I  am  He  with  sprinkled  raiment 

Glorious  for  my  vengeance  hour, 
Ransoming  with  priceless  payment, 

And  delivering  with  power. 

4. 

Hail,  all  hail  thou  Lord  of  Glory  ! 

Thee  our  Father,  thee  we  own  ! 
Abram  heard  not  of  our  story, 

Israel  ne'er  our  name  hath  known  ; 
But,  Redeemer,  thou  hast  sought  us, 

Thou  hast  heard  thy  children's  wail, 
Thou  with  thy  dear  blood,  hast  bought  us, 

Hail,  thou  mighty  Victor,  hail ! 


HYMN. 


145 


HYMN. 


American  Missions. 


1. 

Lord,  when  thou  didst  come  from  Heaven, 

Edom  sought  thee,  from  afar, 
With  her  gold  and  incense  given, 

By  the  leading  of  a  star  ; 
Westward  then,  from  Eden  guiding, 

Was  the  light  of  Bethlehem  shed  ; 
Like  the  pillar'd  blaze  abiding 

O'er  the  wandering  Hebrew's  head. 

2. 

Westward  still,  the  world  alluring. 

Hath  the  risen  Day-Star  beamed, 
And,  the  sinking  soul  assuring, 

O'er  the  world's  wide  ocean  streamed. 
Westward  still,  the  midnight  breaking, 

Westward  still,  its  light  be  poured  ! 
Heathen  thy  possession  making, 

Utmost  lands  thy  dwelling,  Lord  ! 


10 


116 


LAYS. 


3. 

Westward,  where  from  giant  fountains, 

Oregon  comes  down  in  flood, 
Westward  to  Missouri's  mountains, 

Or  to  wild  Iowa's  wood  : 
Where  the  broad  Arkansas  goeth, 

Winding  o'er  savannahs  wide  ; 
Where,  beyond  old  Huron,  floweth 

Many  a  strong  eternal  tide. 

4. 

Westward,  where  the  wavy  prairie 

Dark  as  slumbering  ocean  lies, 
Let  thy  starlight,  Son  of  Mary, 

O'er  the  shadow'd  billows  rise  ! 
There,  be  heard  ye  herald  voices 

Till  the  Lord  his  glory  shows, 
And  the  lonely  place  rejoices, 

With  the  bloom  of  Sharon's  rose. 

5. 

Where  the  wilderness  is  lying, 

And  the  trees  of  ages  nod, 
Westward,  in  the  desert  crying, 

Make  a  highway  for  our  God  : 
Westward — till  the  Church  be  kneeling 

In  the  forest  aisles  so  dim, 


mariner's  hymn.  147 

And  the  wild  wood's  arches  pealing, 
With  the  people's  holy  hymn  ! 

6. 

Westward,  still,  oh  Lord,  in  glory 

Be  thy  bannered  cross  unfurled, 
Till  from  vale  to  mountain  hoaiy, 

Rolls  the  anthem  round  the  world ; 
Reign,  oh  reign  o'er  every  nation, 

Reign,  Redeemer,  Father,  King, 
And  with  songs  of  thy  salvation, 

Let  the  wide  creation  ring  ! 


MARINER'S    HYMN. 

Looking  unto  Jesus. 
1. 

Star  of  the  Soul,  my  Saviour's  cross, 

No  cloud  thy  glorious  light  can  hide  ; 
Thou  shin'st  unshaken,  while  I  toss 

In  darkest  night,  o'er  billows  wide  ; 
I  look  to  thee,  1  look  to  thee, 

Whatever  gulfs  would  overwhelm, 
And  thine  unclouded  presence  see, 

Above  the  storm,  and  o'er  the  helm. 


148  LAYS. 

2. 

Star  of  the  Soul,  my  Saviour's  cross, 

That  from  the  deep  baptismal  wave, 
I  saw  arise,  when  all  at  loss 

Repentance  found  naught  else  to  save 
Oh  seen  by  faith  at  such  an  hcjur, 

My  only  hope,  my  only  guide, 
Star  of  the  Soul,  how  blest  the  Power, 

That  set  thee  o'er  life's  raging  tide. 

3. 

Star  of  the  Soul,  in  storms  of  fear 

That  in  my  heart  their  tumult  keep, 
Oh  cross  of  Christ,  thou  still  art  near, 

In  mercy  beaming  o'er  the  deep; 
Though  sin  its  bitter  waters  toss, 

Unbrightened  by  a  hope  beside, 
Star  of  the  Soul,  my  Saviour's  cross, 

No  cloud  thy  glorious  light  can  hide. 


LITTLE    HYMN. 

For  the  child  of  a  dear  friend. 
1. 

When  the  evergreens  hung  round, 
And  the  Christmas  bells  did  sound, 


LITTLE    HYMN.  149 

Saviour,  then  they  told  of  thee, 
Thou  wast  once  a  child  like  me  : 
Hear  me  then,  my  Saviour  mild, 
Hear,  and  love  a  little  child. 

2. 

Since  for  me  thou  earnest  to  die, 
I,  like  thee  to  live,  will  try  ; 
Thou  for  me  didst  poor  become, 
And  a  manger  was  thine  home  : 
Oh  for  all  thou  didst  endure, 
Help  me  Lord,  to  love  the  poor. 

3. 

Smiling  on  the  Virgin's  knee, 
Brightly  went  the  day  with  thee  ; 
Peace  and  love  were  round  thee  shed, 
And  God's  angels  watched  thy  bed*; 
So  may  I  improve  the  light, 
So  be  guarded  safe  by  night. 

4. 

Help  me  too,  like  thee  to  grow 
Dear  to  God,  and  man  below ! 
And  from  childhood's  guileless  heart, 
Saviour,  let  me  never  part, 
Since  like  children,  all  must  be, 
Who,  at  last,  would  live  with  thee  ! 


150 


LAYS. 


THY    GLORY,    LORD. 

Exod.  xxxiii.  18. 
1. 

Thy  glory,  Lord,  o'er  all  the  earth, 

Like  morning's  light  doth  shine, 
Where  mountain's  heave  their  giant  birth, 

Where  rolls  that  sea  of  thine  ; 
That  glorious  sea,  that  mirrors  thee 

More  wonderful  and  vast, 
Whose  throne  was  reared,  eternally 

In  clouds  and  darkness  cast. 

2. 

Thy  glory,  Lord,  though  thou  art  great, 

Is  not  thy  power  alone, 
Though  seraphs  in  thy  service  wait, 

And  burn  before  thy  throne  ; 
Thy  glory,  Lord,  is  not  the  sword 

Of  vengeance  on  thy  thigh ; 
Nor  thunders  that  await  thy  word, 

To  rend  the  shrivelled  sky. 

3. 

Thy  glory,  Lord,  is  not  the  light 
That  crowns  thine  awful  head, 


HYMN    FOR    THE    DEAD.  151 

Nor  e'en  the  amber  lustre  bright 

Around  thy  presence  shed  : 
For  there  the  hymn,  of  cherubim, 

And  lyres  that  flame  above, 
Proclaims  it,  to  thy  glory  dim, 

The  glory  of  thy  love  ! 


HYMN    FOR    THE    DEAD. 

Help,  Lord,  for  the  godly  man  ceaseth. 

1.  SOLO. 

So,  from  the  earth,  the  godly  go ! 

Help,  Lord,  the  faithful  fail ! 
Ah,  who  are  left  to  thee  below, 
Ah,  what  to  soothe  our  sorrow's  flow, 
Save  the  bright  hope  that  calms  our  wo, 

As,  o'er  the  dead,  we  wail ! 

2.  TRIO. 

Tis  o'er  the  early  dead  we  weep  ; 
But  peaceful  is  their  hallow'd  sleep  ; 
And,  Saviour,  when  thy  light  they  see, 
When  from  the  dust  they  rise  to  thee, 
How  glorious  shall  their  waking  be  ! 


152  LAYS. 

3.    CHORUS. 

Blest  leader  of  the  bright  array, 

That  yet  shall  break  their  cerements  dread, 
And  change  their  cold  corrupted  clay, 

To  rise,  undying,  from  the  dead ; 
Be  thou  our  helper,  and  our  stay, 
When  comes  creation's  final  day, 
When  roll  the  parching  skies  away, 

And  loud  the  archangel  trumpets  ring  ! 
That  such  our  triumph-song  may  be, 
As  rapt,  we  rise  to  life  and  thee, 
Oh  grave  where  is  thy  victory, 

Where,  Spoiler,  is  thy  sting ! 


THE    FIRST    PSALM. 

Beatus  vir. 
1. 

Oh  the  blessings  of  him  who  hath  turned  from 

the  path, 
Where    wander    bewildered     the    children   of 

wrath  : 
Who  stands  not  with  scorners,  nor  sits  in  the 

seat, 
Where  triumph  the  godless,  and  atheists  meet ! 


THE    FIRST    PSALM.  153 

2. 

The  Lord  is  his  pleasure,  his  song,  and  delight : 
He  dwells  with  Jehovah  from  morning  to  night : 
His  leaf  shall  not  wither,  his  fruit  never  fall ; 


And  look  !  what  he  doeth  shall  prosper  withal ! 

3. 

He  shall  stand  like  a  tree  in  the  garden  of  God, 
His  boughs  high  in  heaven,  his  root  in  the  sod, 
All  goodly  and  green  as  the  olives  that  bend, 
Where  rills  of  the  desert  through  oases  wend. 

4. 

And  this,  while  the  godless  up-torn  by  the  root, 
Shall  blast  in  the  blossom  and  blight  in  the  fruit ! 
Oh  dreadful  their  lot !  Like  the  chaff  they  shall 

Or  the  sands  of  the  waste  when  the  whirlwind 
is  high. 


OUR    GOD    IN    GLORY 

Doraiuus  regnavit. 
1. 

Our  God  in  glory  reigneth 

Majestical,  on  high, 
The  Lord,  whose  hand  sustaineth, 

The  earth  and  starry  sky. 


154 


LAYS. 


And  glorious  there  his  throne,  of  old, 

That  shall  for  aye  endure, 
Was  fixt  ere  yonder  planets  rolled, 

Or  this  round  world  was  sure  ! 

2. 

The  waves,  the  seas,  the  waters 

Have  lifted  up  their  voice, 
But  God's  unfearing  daughters, 

Above  the  storm  rejoice  ; 
Their  father's  word  can  still  the  roar, 

For,  mightier  far  than  they, 
The  floods,  the  winds,  the  sounding  shore, 

Shall  hear  him,  and  obey. 

3. 

Oh  yes,  though  loudly  raging, 

Old  Ocean  mocks  the  sky, 
His  word  is  heard  assuaging, 

And  down  the  billows  die  ! 
And  glory,  Lord,  thy  saints  shall  sing, 

To  thee  their  God  alone, 
For  holiness,  Almighty  King, 

Becomes  thy  glorious  throne  ! 


WHEN    ISRAEL.  155 


WHEN    ISRAEL    FROM    THE 
LAND    OF    NILE. 

Iu  exitu. 
1. 

When  Israel,  from  the  land  of  Nile, 
Went  up  in  triumph  o'er  the  sea, 

And  left,  beneath  that  cloudy  pile, 
The  shores  where  heathen  altars  be, 

In  Juda  was  Jehovah  known, 

And  there  the  mighty  God  was  shown  ! 

2. 

The  rolling  waters  saw  and  fled, 

The  mountains  leaped  like  Nebo's  rams, 

And  Jordan  trembled  in  its  bed, 

And  skipped  the  little  hills  like  lambs. 

Oh  Jordan  then  what  ailed  thee  ! 

Why  fleddest  thou  eternal  sea  ! 

3. 

Why  fled  ye  so,  ye  little  rills, 

Or  what,  old  Ocean,  broke  thy  calm  ! 

Why  leaped  ye  so,  ye  high,  high  hills, 
Why  skipped  ye  like  the  mountain  lamb  ? 


156  LAYS. 

The  tribes  went  up  across  the  sea  ; 
Say,  ye  big  waves,  why  trembled  ye  ! 

4. 

Tremble,  oh  earth — it  was  the  Lord  ! 

The  pillar  of  His  presence  led  ; 
The  God  of  Jacob  bared  His  sword, 

The  startled  waters  saw  and  fled  ! 
Gashed  into  tears  the  flinty  stone  ; 
Tremble,  oh  earth  ;  't  was  God  alone  ! 


RIGHT    GLAD    WAS    I. 

Lffitatus  sum. 
1. 

Right  glad  was  I  when  unto  me, 

They  said  with  one  accord, 
Oh  let  us  un  to  Zion-hill, 

J.  * 

The  city  of  our  Lord  ! 
Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates, 

Jerusalem,  our  home, 
And  to  thy  temples  beauty-built, 

Our  wearied  steps  shall  come. 

2. 

Oh  thither  all  the  tribes  go  up, 
The  people  of  our  God  ! 


orisons.  157 

And  there  the  golden  censers  smoke, 

And  music  sounds  abroad  ! 
There  incense-wreaths  forever  rise, 

And  there  the  Lord  is  known, 
And  there  is  set  his  judgment  seat, 

His  glory,  and  his  throne  !     • 

3. 

Oh  pray  ye  for  Jerusalem, 

Who  blesseth  her  is  blest  ; 
Peace  be  within  thy  palaces, 

And  in  thy  temples  rest  ! 
And  on  her  golden  shrines  be  light, 

And  sunshine  ever  fair, 
For  there  my  father's  children  dwell ; 

Our  fathers'  God  is  there. 


ORISONS. 

1. 

Jesu,  in  the  manger  born, 
Mid  the  stabled  herd,  forlorn  ; 
Jesu,  once  a  babe  at  rest, 
On  thy  virgin  mother's  breast ; 
Jesu,  with  thy  sacred  head, 
Pillowed  where  the  oxen  fed  ; 


158 


LAYS. 


Jesu  Saviour,  look  on  me, 
Born  in  dreary  earth  like  thee  ! 
Miserere  Domine. 

2. 

Jesu,  in  the  temple  shewn, 
By  thy  mother  poor  and  lone  ; 
Jesu,  child  of  fears  and  loves, 
With  the  bleeding  turtle-doves  ; 
Jesu,  in  a  father's  arms, 
Borne  from  Herod's  vain  alarms  ; 
Jesu,  Saviour,  look  on  me, 
By  thine  early  misery. 

Miserere  Domine. 


3. 

Jesu,  with  the  shelly  bowl 
Sprinkling  o'er  thy  stainless  soul ; 
Jesu,  Lamb  of  God,  for  aye 
Bearing  all  our  sins  away  ; 
Jesu,  up  the  mountain  led, 
Where  the  howling  beasts  are  bred  ; 
Jesu,  tempted  once  like  me, 
Give  me,  too,  thy  victory. 

Miserere  Domine. 


ORISONS.  159 

4. 

Jesu,  by  thy  power  divine, 
Changing  water  into  wine  ; 
Jesu,  giving  life  again, 
To  the  widow's  son  of  Xain ; 
Jesu,  man's  own  brother  proved, 
Weeping  for  thy  friend  beloved  ; 
Jesu,  let  my  worship  be 
Mary's  spikenard  box  to  thee ! 
Miserere  Domine. 

5. 

Jesu,  in  that  solemn  hall, 
Holding  love's  last  festival ; 
Jesu,  in  the  garden  lone, 
Where  the  paschal  moon-beam  shone  ; 
Jesu,  pouring  out  thy  breath, 
Soul  and  spirit  unto  death  ; 
Jesu  Saviour,  pity  me, 
When  I  cannot  watch  with  thee. 
Miserere  Domine. 

6. 

Jesu,  in  the  purple  weed, 
Thorny  crown,  and  scornful  reed  ; 
Jesu,  fainting  in  the  way, 
'^Neath  the  cross  that  on  thee  lay  ; 


160 


LAYS. 


Jesu,  with  thy  tender  eye, 
Straining  for  its  hour  to  die  ; 
Jesu,  bid  thy  servant  be 
Yet  in  Paradise  with  thee. 

Miserere  Domine. 

7. 

Jesu,  scarred  but  strong  to  save, 
Rising  deathless  from  the  grave  ; 
Jesu,  in  the  garden  seen 
By  adoring  Magdalene ; 
Jesu,  going  up  on  high, 
Leading  thy  captivity  ; 
Jesu  Saviour,  let  me  be 
Evermore  in  Heaven  with  thee. 
Miserere  Domine. 


ADVENT    HYMN. 

Theme  from  the  Dies  Irae. 
1. 

That  awful  day  of  ire, 

Ah,  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 

When  earth  dissolves  in  fire, 
And  heaven  shall  roll  away  : 


ADVENT    HYMN.  161 

What  trembling  shall  surprise 

The  guilty  child  of  clay, 
When  opes  that  last  assize  : 

Ah,  who  shall  bear  that  day ! 

2. 

When  loud  the  trump  shall  sound, 

Ah,  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 
When  shrill  it  echoes  round, 

Where  long  the  slumberers  lay  ; 
When  up  from  every  tomb 

Shall  start  the  silent  clay  ; 
That  dreadful  day  of  doom, 

Ah,  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 

3. 

Oh,  death  itself  shall  quake, 

And  nature  shrink  away, 
When  from  the  clods  they  break, 

To  meet  that  dreadful  day  ! 
Ah,  when  the  just  are  pale, 

What  shall  the  guilty  say  ! 
Ah,  who  shall  heed  their  wail ; 

Ah,  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 

4. 

Tremendous  Monarch  !  now 

To  thy  majestic  sway 
_ 


162  LAYS. 

Our  trembling  spirits  bow, 
Or  ere  that  dreadful  day  ! 

Oh,  save  us,  fount  of  Love  ' 
Oh,  wash  our  sin  away  ! 

Spare — spare  us,  God  above  ! 
Else  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 

5. 

Oh,  Judge  Supreme  and  Just, 

Appalled,  I  bend  and  pray  ! 
Oh  God,  I  shrink  to  dust ! 

How  can  I  bear  that  day  ! 
That  day  of  dread  surprise  ! 

Jesu,  be  thou  my  stay, 
That  awful  day  of  sighs  : 

Else,  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 

6. 

That  awful  day  of  ire, 

When  heaven  shall  roll  away, 
When  earth  dissolves  in  fire  ; 

That  day — that  awful  day  ! 
Its  trumpet,  in  the  tomb 

Shall  stir  the  shrouded  clay ; 
That  dreadful  day  of  doom  ; 

Oh  who  shall  bear  that  day  ! 


NOT    UNTO    US.  163 


NOT    UNTO    US. 

Theme  from  the  Non  Nobis  Domine. 
1. 

Not  unto  us,  oh  Lord  our  God, 
Not  unto  us,  the  noble  laud, 
For  thine  are  all  things  here  below, 
And  earth  and  skies  thy  glory  show, 
And  Heaven  is  thine,  and  thine  are  we, 
And  thine  are  all  things  good,  we  see, 
Non  nobis  decus,  Domine. 

2. 

Now  the  bright  skies  thy  praise  proclaim  ! 
The  heavens  are  letter'd  with  thy  name  ; 
O'er  all  the  world,  the  sunlight  poured, 
Is  shadow  to  thy  glory,  Lord ; 
And  stars,  and  light,  and  earth  and  sea, 
Send  up  one  anthem,  Lord,  to  thee, 

Non  nobis  decus,  Domine. 

3- 

Thine  is  the  heaven  of  heavens,  oh  God  ; 
How  is  thy  glory  spread  abroad  ! 


164 


LAYS. 


And  realms  unseen,  and  worlds  divine, 
And  angel  armies,  Lord,  are  thine  ; 
So  great  art  thou,  so  lowly  we  ; 
Not  unto  us,  the  glory  be, 

Non  nobis  decus,  Domine. 


THEE,    GOD,   WE    PRAISE 

Te  Deum  Laudamus. 
1. 

Thee,  God,  we  praise,  acknowledging 
Thou  art  the  Lord,  and  thou  our  King  : 
To  thee  all  earth  doth  lowly  bow, 
The  Father  everlasting  thou  ! 

2. 

To  thee  all  angels  loudly  cry, 
The  heavens  and  all  the  powers  on  high, 
While  seraphs  bright,  and  cherubim, 
Upsend  their  sweet  continual  hymn  ! 

3. 

In  homes  of  light  their  song  is  poured, 
Oh,  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord  ! 
Earth  and  high  heaven  are  full  of  thee, 
Thy  glory  and  thy  majesty  ! 


THEE,    GOD,    WE    PRAISE.  165 

4. 
The  glorious  company  above 
Of  the  apostles  hymn  thy  love, 
While  with  the  prophets'  goodly  ring, 
The  martyrs'  noble  army  sing. 

5. 

And  all  throughout  this  world  so  wide, 
The  holy  Church,  the  spotless  bride. 
Father  and  Lord  confesseth  thee, 
All  infinite  in  majesty  ! 

6. 

Also  thy  true  and  only  Son, 
The  church  with  thee  adoreth  one  ; 
And  one  with  thee,  sent  down  to  her, 
O  Holy  Ghost,  the  Comforter ! 

7. 

Thou  art  the  King  of  glory  bright, 
O  Christ !  the  Lord— the  God  of  might ; 
Thou  art  the  true,  the  Holy  One, 
The  Father's  Everlasting  Son  ! 

8. 
When  on  thyself,  poor  man  to  save, 
Thou  tookest  shame,  the  cross,  the  grave, 


166 


LAYS. 


Thou,  sent  to  suffer  in  our  room, 
Didst  not  abhor  the  Virgin's  womb. 

9. 

When  death's  sharp  bitterness  was  o'er, 
And  thou  hadst  spoiled  the  conqueror, 
Thou  to  the  faithful  and  forgiven 
Didst  open  wide  the  gates  of  heaven. 


10. 

Now  in  the  Father's  glory  high, 
Thou  sittest  clothed  with  majesty, 
At  the  right  hand  of  God  enthroned, 
Till  foes  thy  footstool  shall  be  owned. 

11. 

Thence  we  believe  that  thou  shalt  come, 
To  be  our  Judge,  that  day  of  doom  ; 
Oh,  therefore,  help  thy  servants,  Lord, 
Bought  with  thy  blood,  thy  due  reward. 

12. 

Make  them  with  all  thy  saints  to  sit, 
In  glory  everlasting  writ ; 
Oh,  save  thy  flock  from  Satan's  rage  ! 
Lord,  bless  thy  chosen  heritage  ! 


A    LENT    HYMN.  167 

13. 

0  Lord,  their  King  vouchsafe  to  be, 
And  daily  lift  them  up  to  thee, 
Whom,  day  by  day,  we  magnify, 
And  worship  till  the  world  shall  die  ! 

14. 

Keep  us  this  day  from  sin  abhorr'd, 
Have  mercy  on  us — mercy,  Lord  ! 
And  let  thy  mercy  on  us  be, 
As  we  have  trusted,  Lord,  in  thee  ! 

15. 

0  Lord,  in  thee — in  thee  alone, 
My  hope  from  holy  faith  hath  grown, 
And  since  I've  trusted  in  thy  name, 
Oh,  let  me  never  suffer  shame  ! 


A  LENT   HYMN. 

1. 

Alas,  which  way  I  turn  I  err, 
My  thoughts  are  vile  within, 

Ah  how  shall  earth's  poor  voyager, 
Escape  the  paths  of  sin. 


168  LAYS. 

2. 

Lord,  I  have  wandered  and  to  thee 

Have  been  a  faithless  son, 
But  father,  still  a  father  be, 

And  spare  thine  erring  son. 

3. 

Through  His  dear  love,  by  whom  alone, 

We  may  thy  children  be, 
And  by  the  sorrows  He  hath  known, 

My  soul  from  sorrow  free 

4. 

And  smile,  my  Father,  through  the  gloom 
That  wraps  my  suppliant  hour, 

Nor  quench  the  glowing  soul's  perfume, 
Nor  break  the  drooping  flower. 


STANZAS    FOR    EASTERTIDE. 

Thy  dew  is  as  the  dew  of  herbs. 
1. 

How  in  the  flowery  spring,  my  God, 

The  buds  of  promise  ope, 
And  blossom  o'er  life's  thorny  road 

To  cheer  the  Christian's  hope  ! 
J 


STANZAS  FOR  EASTERTIDE.      169 

Like  them,  exulting  from  the  tomb, 

We,  too,  revived,  shall  rise, 
And  flourish  in  immortal  bloom, 

In  Edens  of  the  skies. 

2. 

What  though  in  pensive  Autumn's  wane, 

Earth's  sere-grown  glories  fall, 
And  sleep  through  winter's  dull  domain, 

When  death  is  writ  on  all ; 
Exulting,  in  the  breaking  year, 

The  lily  doth  unclose, 
And  daisies  o'er  the  waste  appear, 

And  roses  from  the  snows. 

3. 

So  then  to  dust,  our  dust  shall  turn, 

So,  too,  shall  rise  and  sing, 
When  falls  upon  the  mouldered  urn, 

The  joyous  dew  of  Spring  : 
The  God  that  rears  the  tender  flowers, 

And  breathes  to  life  their  dust, 
From  the  cold  grave  shall  quicken  ours, 

And  nevv-create  the  just. 


170 


LAYS. 


HYMN  FOR  HOLY  THURSDAY. 

1. 

Oh,  crowned  with  light  in  glory  now, 

Though  crowned  on  earth  with  thorn, 
To  thee,  with  all  the  earth  we  bow, 

And  sing  the  Virgin-born. 
And  lowly  are  the  notes  we  raise, 

Yet,  Saviour,  deign  to  hear, 
Though  there  thou  reign'st  where  seraphs  blaze, 

And  cherubs  burn  and  fear. 

2, 

For  so,  to  bless  the  sons  of  earth, 

On  earth  thou  wast  forlorn  : 
A  man  of  sorrows  from  thy  birth, 

The  lowly  Virgin-born : 
For  us,  thy  tender  hand  was  scarred  : 

For  us,  was  bowed  thy  head, 
And  all  thy  human  beauty  marred, 

When  Death  was  captive  led. 

3. 

For  us,  the  crimson  cross  was  stain'd, 
For  us,  thy  life-blood  given  : 


HYMN    FOR    TRINITY    SUNDAY.  171 

For  us,  the  glorious  conflict  gained, 

To  bring  us  home  to  heaven  : 
For  us,  thou  art  gone  up  on  high, 

With  victor-beauty  crowned  : 
For  us,  thy  hand  hath  oped  the  sky, 

And  Death  in  fetters  bound. 

4. 

For  us,  thy  garments  stained  with  blood, 

Thee,  more  than  Conqueror  show, 
The  Prince  of  Peace,  the  mighty  God, 

The  Lord  of  all  below  ! 
Oh  Wonderful ! — in  glory  now, 

Though  once  on  earth  forlorn, 
To  thee,  with  all  the  earth,  we  bow, 

And  laud  the  Virgin-born  ! 


HYMN  FOR  TRINITY   SUNDAY 

1. 

Now,  the  shining  worlds  along, 
Rises  high  the  angel-song, 
Where  the  emerald  rainbows  spread, 
Glorious  round  the  Eternal  head  ; 
Where  upon  the  sapphire  throne, 
Beams  the  mystic  sardin-stone  ; 


172 


LAYS. 


And  where  veiling  seraphs  bow, 
Crying  Holy,  Holy,  thou  ! 
Thou  who  art,  and  art  to  be 
Glorified  eternally, 
And  forevermore  adored  ; 
Holy,  Holy,  Holy  Lord ! 

2. 

Streams  on  earth  a  dimmer  day, 
Where  thy  lowly  people  pray  : 
Yet  rejoicing  in  thy  light, 
And  adoring  thee  aright, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ; 
We,  with  all  the  heavenly  host, 
Here  on  earth  would  bend  and  bow, 
Crying  Holy,  Holy,  thou  ! 
Thou  who  art,  &c. 

3. 

So,  forever  till  we  die, 
Holy,  Holy  may  we  cry  ! 
So  forever,  honour  thee 
Glorious  God,  the  Trinity  ! 
Still  confessing  thee  but  one, 
Father,  Holy  Ghost  and  Son, 
Till  with  angel  choirs  we  bow, 
Crying  Holy,  Holy  thou, 


LET    OUT    THY    SOUL.  173 

Thou  who  art,  and  art  to  be 
Glorified  eternally, 
And  forevermore  adored  : 
Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  ! 


LET    OUT    THY    SOUL. 

A  Lent  Lay. 
1. 

Let  out  thy  soul,  and  pray 

Not  for  thy  home  alone  ! 
Away — in  prayer,  away  ! 

Make  all  the  world  thine  own  ! 
Let  out  thy  soul  in  prayer ; 

Oh,  let  thy  spirit  grow  ! 
God  gives  thee  sun  and  air ; 

Let  the  full  blossom  blow  ! 

2. 

There  !  dost  thou  not  perceive 
Thy  spirit  swell  within, 

And  something  high  receive, 
That  is  not  born  of  sin  ? 

Oh,  paltry  is  the  soul 
That  only  self  can  heed  ! 


174 


LAYS. 


Sail  outward — from  the  shoal, 
And  bourgeon,  from  the  seed  ! 


Moth  and  the  rust  consume 

The  spangled  folds  of  pride  ; 
Dry-rot  doth  eat  the  bloom, 

And  gnaw  the  wealth  we  hide 
The  Spirit's  selfish  care, 

Doth  die  away  the  same  ; 
But  give  it  air — free  air, 

And  how  the  soul  can  flame  ! 


4. 

Yestreen  I  did  not  know 

How  largely  I  could  live  ; 
But  Faith  hath  made  me  grow, 

To  more  than  Earth  can  give. 
Joy  !  for  a  heart  released 

From  littleness  and  pride  ; 
Fast  is  the  Spirit's  feast, 

And  Lent  the  soul's  high-tide. 

5. 

When  for  the  Church  I  pray'd, 
As  this  dear  Lent  began, 


LET    OUT    THY    SOUL.  175 

My  thoughts,  I  am  afraid, 

Within  small  limits  ran. 
By  Ember-week  I  learn'd 

How  large  that  prayer  might  be, 
And  then,  in  soul,  I  burn'd 

That  all  might  pray  with  me. 

6. 

Plead  for  the  victims  all 

Of  heresy  and  sect ; 
And  bow  thy  knees  like  Paul, 

For  all  the  Lord's  Elect ! 
Pray  for  the  Church — I  mean, 

For  Shem  and  Japhet  pray  : 
And  churches,  long  unseen, 

In  isles,  and  far  away  ! 

7. 

Oh,  pray  that  all  who  err 

May  thus  be  gather'd  in ; 
The  Moslem  worshipper, 

And  all  the  sects  of  sin  ! 
For  all  who  love  in  heart, 

But  have  not  found  the  way, 
Pray — and  thy  tears  will  start ! 

'T  was  so  the  Lord  did  pray. 


176  LAYS. 


8. 


Now,  when  the  hordes  of  Rome 

Are  up  against  the  Lord, 
All  churches  are  our  home, 

And  Prayer  our  mighty  sword  ! 
The  saints'  communion — one, 

One  Lord — one  Faith — one  birth, 
Oh,  pray  to  God  the  Son, 

For  all  his  Church  on  Earth. 


WATCHWORDS. 

A  hymn  for  the  times. 
1. 


We  are  living, — we  are  dwelling 
In  a  grand  and  awful  time  ; 

In  an  age,  on  ages  telling, 
To  be  living — is  sublime. 

2. 

Hark  !  the  waking  up  of  nations, 
Gog  and  Magog,  to  the  fray  ; 

Hark  !  what  soundeth,  is  Creation's 
Groaning  for  its  latter  day. 


WATCHWORDS.  177 

3. 

Will  ye  play,  then !  will  ye  dally, 
With  your  music,  with  your  wine  ? 

Up  !  it  is  Jehovah's  rally  ! 

God's  own  arm  hath  need  of  thine. 

4. 

Hark,  the  onset !  will  ye  fold  your 

Faith-clad  arms  in  lazy  lock? 
Up,  O  up,  thou  drowsy  soldier ! 

Worlds  are  charging  to  the  shock. 

5. 

Worlds  are  charging — Heaven  beholding  ; 

Thou  hast  but  an  hour  to  fight ; 
Now,  the  blazon'd  cross  unfolding, 

On — right  onward,  for  the  right ! 

6. 

What !  still  hug  thy  dreamy  slumbers  ? 

'T  is  no  time  for  idling  play  : 
Wreaths,  and  dance,  and  poet-numbers, 

Flout  them  !  we  must  work  to-day  ! 

7. 

Fear  not !  spurn  the  worlding's  laughter  ; 
Thine  ambition — trample  thou  ! 

12 


178 


LAYS. 


Thou  shalt  find  a  long  Hereafter, 
To  be  more  than  tempts  thee  now. 

8. 
Oh  !  let  all  the  soul  within  you, 

For  the  truth's  sake,  go  abroad  ! 
Strike  !  let  every  nerve  and  sinew 

Tell  on  ages — tell  for  God. 

9. 

Magog  leadeth  many  a  va,ssal ; 

Christ  his  few — his  little  ones  ; 
But  about  our  leaguer'd  castle, 

Rear  and  Vanguard  are  his  sons  ! 

10. 

Seal'd  to  blush,  to  waver  never ; 

Cross'd,  baptized,  and  born  agen, 
Sworn  to  be  Christ's  soldiers  ever, 

Oh,  for  Christ,  at  least,  be  men ! 


HOLY    ORDERS. 

I  will  wash  my  hands  in  innocency. 
1. 

I*  ll  wash  my  hands  in  waters 
That  are  innocent  as  snow, 


i 


HOLY    ORDERS.  179 

And  thus  unto  thine  altars, 

My  Redeemer,  will  I  go  : 
I'  11  stand  within  thy  temples, 

In  garments  pure  and  white, 
And  take  thy  yoke  upon  me, 

For  'tis  easy  and  'tis  light. 

2. 

But  give  me  in  the  beauty 

Of  holiness  to  shine, 
And  to  sound  upon  the  mountains 

That  cheery  trump  of  thine  ; 
And  to  ope  the  gushing  fountains 

In  the  desert's  dreary  ways, 
And  herald  joyful  tidings, 

And  the  holy  cross  to  raise. 

3. 

And  with  a  soul  that  tramples 

On  the  laurel  and  the  gem, 
May  I  strive,  in  godlike  meekness, 

For  a  brighter  diadem  ; 
And  run  my  race  with  glory, 

And  fight  a  noble  fight, 
Till  I  join  the  victor-paean 

Of  the  conquerors  in  light. 


180  LAYS. 

4. 

Now  clothe  me  in  mine  armor, 

Ye  fathers  of  the  host, 
And  give  my  hand  the  banner 

Of  the  dove-like  Holy  Ghost ; 
While  swells  around  the  war-song 

Of  my  Redeemer  King, 
And  all  the  warrior-anthems 

That  the  noble  armies  sing. 

5. 

Then  bless  me  for  the  onset 

That  I  may  battle  well, 
For  the  Captain  of  salvation, 

'Gainst  the  leaguered  hosts  of  hell ; 
Nor  shun  the  hottest  conflict, 

Where  the  spoiler  is  abroad, 
But  breast  his  fiercest  phalanx, 

In  the  panoply  of  God. 

6. 

Oh,  glorious  is  the  warfare 

And  the  triumph-cry  shall  sound, 

Not  sweeter  to  the  victors, 

Than  the  vanquished  heathen  round 

Messiah's  armies  ever, 
To  their  foemen  faint  in  strife, 


HOLY    ORDERS.  181 


Bend  down  the  laden  branches 
Of  the  healing  tree  of  life. 


*o 


7. 

Yet,  Saviour,  not  with  boasting 

Would  I  gird  me  for  the  fight, 
And  take  thy  yoke  upon  me, 

Though  so  easy  and  so  light ! 
Who  putteth  on  his  harness, 

And  striveth  for  a  crown, 
Oh,  let  him  never  glory 

Till  he  lays  his  armor  dowrn. 


NOTES. 


The  first  poem  in  this  collection  was  inserted  as  appropriate  to 
follow  the  dedication,  although  it  was  written  at  a  much  later 
date  than  most  of  the  others.  The  Hymn  of  the  Wreath,  was  also 
written  after  most  of  the  Lays,  but  I  have  given  it  its  place,  be- 
cause 1  knew  of  no  better  use  for  it.  And  although  the  two  are 
of  a  graver  burden,  than  those  that  immediately  follow,  they 
are  supposed  the  more  suitable,  as  commencing  the  book  with  a 
vanitas  vanitatum.  After  these,  lays  of  emulation,  love,  disap- 
pointment, and  reflection  succeed  each  other,  until  the  whole  are 
of  a  devotional  and  religious  cast.  Even  in  these  last,  there  will 
be  noticed  a  progressive  order,  varying  from  "  Spiritual  Songs"  to 
Catholic  Hymns  and  Anthems. 

Vd  die  mid  soft  music. 

The  etherial  harmony  of  Von  Weber's  Last  Waltz,  though  too 
melancholy  for  mirth,  is  not  dignified  enough  for  religion.  1  have 
furnished  it  with  words,  therefore,  which  seem  to  me  expressive  of 
the  sentiment  of  the  music.  But  that  sentiment  must  by  no 
means  be  attributed  to  me.  I  had  heard  that  the  Last  Waltz 
was  composed  by  Von  Weber  on  his  death-bed;  and  therefore 
imagined  the  burthen  of  its  strain,  such  as  I  have  suggested.  But 
a  truly  Christian  composer,  would  not  employ  his  last  hours  on 
any  thing  less  than  a  sacred  Anthem,  or  a  Miserere  :  ami  the  story 
of  Mozart's  Requiem  is  much  more  interesting  and  becoming. 


184 


NOTES. 


Hark  through  the  skies,  fyc. 

This  poem  and  others  that  succeed  it,  were  written  m  such 
early  years  that  1  have  distinguished  them  with  apologetic  dates. 
They  made  no  part  of  the  book  when  it  was  put  to  press,  but  as 
more  matter  was  found  necessary,  1  was  obliged  hastily  to  incor- 
porate them  with  the  Lays,  as  being  the  only  early  poems  of  the 
kind  in  my  possession. 

When  the  wounded  bucanier. 

This  poem  was  addressed  to  a  lady,  a  relative,  on  reading  the 
anecdote  to  which  it  alludes,  in  the  work  cf  Audubon,  on  Ameri- 
can birds.  That  author  tells  us  that  the  plaintive  note  of  the 
Zenaida  dove,  has  actually  been  known  to  have  such  an  effect 
upon  a  pirate,  that  he  deserted  his  comrades,  and  in  true  peni- 
tence, abandoned  forever  his  evil  ways. 

Still  as  our  day  our  strength  shall  be. 

1  have  spoken  in  this  little  Hymn,  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  a6 
suffering  the  pains  of  his  cross,  during  the  whole  of  his  life.  My 
meaning  must  be  explained  of  course  by  the  fact  of  his  Divinity,  to 
which  the  future  was  ever  present.  And  in  this  1  believe  1  am 
borne  out  by  sound  theologians.  Dr.  Dens,  who,  though  a  Ro- 
mish divine,  is  generally  Catholic  on  such  points,  and  usually  fol- 
lows S.  Thomas  Aquinas,  has  this  passage,  which  is  exactly  to 
the  purpose.  "Scriptores  quidam  spirituales,  pia  meditatione, 
observant,  Christum  Dominum  toto  vitae  suas  tempore  sensisse,  in 
anima  dolores  mortis,  quos  passus  est  in  cruce ;  quia  praecogno- 
gcens  illos  futuros,  sibi  eos  vivacissime  et  perfecte  omni  tempore 
representabat  etacceptabat  tanquam  praesentes." 

De  Incarnatione,  Qucest.  xl. 

Oh,  of  song  and  dance  the  pride. 

It  has  been  discovered  by  modern  theologians,  that  Jephtha's 
daughter  was  not  sacrificed  by  her  father,  but  only  devoted  to  a 


NOTES.  185 

recluse  and  virgin  life.  The  Fathers,  however,  thought  other- 
wise; and  St.  Augustine  sees  in  the  transaction,  a  deep  spiritual 
import.  Of  course  I  prefer  his  comment,  to  Kimchi's;  but  when 
1  wrote  this  poem,  the  modern  notion  struck  me  as  a  pretty  fable, 
to  which  I  was  not  unwilling  to  listen. 

Oh  the  blessings  of  him. 
Such  is  the  more  literal  rendering  of  the  original  Hebrew  text, 
in  the  first  verse  of  the  first  Psalm.  For  the  criticism  1  am  in- 
debted to  my  preceptor,  the  late  Prof.  Nordheimer,  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  New  York,  whose  sudden  and  early  death  is  so  universally 
regretted  by  the  learned,  and  lamented  by  his  grateful  pupils. 

When  Israel  from  the  land  of  Nile. 
I  cannot  forbear  to  refer  the  reader,  for  a  much  better  rendering 
of  the  114th  Psalm,  to  the  critical  and  elegant  translation  of  my 
friend  and  brother,  the  Rev.  George  Burgess,  M.  A.,  of  Hartford, 
whose  metrical  version  of  the  Psalms  is  such  an  honor  to  Ameri- 
can literature  and  taste.  The  peculiar  beauty  of  the  second 
verse,  which  1  have  sacrificed  by  introducing  the  name  of  God, 
(which  is  only  elegantly  implied  in  the  original,)  is  in  Mr.  Burgess' 
translation  very  happily  preserved. 

That  awful  day  of  ire. 
This  is  a  free  translation  of  some  select  portions  of  the  Dies 
Irce ;  so  well  known  to  English  readers,  by  the  fine  imitation  of 
Scott ;  and  to  scholars,  by  the  impressive  use  made  of  it  by  Goethe 
in  his  Faust.  I  have  partially  imitated,  as  well  as  translated, 
several  passages  ;  that  famous  one,  in  particular,  which  is  known 
as  the  Rex  Tremendce.  In  so  doing,  1  have  been  forced,  how- 
ever, to  sacrifice,  in  some  degree,  a  desirable  gracefulness  of  ex- 
pression, for  the  sake  of  approximating,  in  some  degree,  to  the 
sonorous  melody  of  the  Latin. 

Not  unto  us,  oh  Lord,  our  God. 
I  have  v;    tog-ether,  this  hymn,  and  the  translation  of  the  Te 


186  NOTES. 

Deum,  which  follows,  because  the  Non  Nobis  was  once  always 
associated  with  that  sublime  doxology,  in  Thanksgiving  services  ; 
though  now  seldom  heard  of,  except  as  performed  at  public  din- 
ners, on  the  removal  of  the  cloth.  The  exclamation  of  Henry  V., 
on  the  field  of  Agincourt,  is  familiar  to  all : 

Do  we  all  holy  rites, 
Let  there  be  sung  Non  Nobis  and  Te  Deum. 

It  is  interesting,  also,  to  remember,  that  Te  Deum  was  the  first 
Christian  thanksgiving  ever  offered  to  God,  in  this  hemisphere. 
The  piety  of  Columbus,  at  once  suggested  the  propriety  of  its  use, 
when  he  found  himself  the  discoverer  of  a  New  World ;  and  the 
hymn  that  was  introduced  to  public  worship,  in  the  Cathedral  at 
Milan,  at  the  baptism  of  Augustine,  was  made  the  offering  of  a 
free  heart,  when  the  first  European  foot  was  planted  in  America. 
We  doubt  whether  any  thing  as  good  was  chaunted  on  Plymouth 
Rock ;  though  had  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  been  Churchmen,  they 
would  have  found  in  the  Psalms  for  the  day,  a  very  appropriate 
as  well  as  inspired  thanksgiving  :  "  Then  are  they  glad  because 
they  are  at  rest;  and  so  He  bringeth  them  unto  the  haven  where 
they  would  be.  Oh  that  men  would  therefore  praise  the  Lord 
for  his  goodness ;  and  declare  the  wonders  that  he  doeth  for  the 
children  of  men," 

Holy  Orders. 

In  the  last  verse  the  allusion  is  to  the  text,  "Let  not  him  that 
girdeth  on  his  harness  boast  himself,  as  he  that  putteth  it  off." 
I.  Kings,  xx.  11th. 


1  trust  the  reader  has  noticed  that  the  arrangement  of  these 
Lays  has  not  been  merely  fortuitous.  They  are  meant  to  succeed 
each  other,  as  did  the  experiences  which  suggested  them,  from 
the  pursuit  of  trifles,  to  the  choice  of  God's  holy  service;  and  to 
exhibit  as  a  moral  what  St.  Augustine  so  appositely  says  in  his 
confessions :  Tu,  Domine,  excitas,  ut  laudare  Te  delectat ;  quia 
fecisti  nos  ad  Te,  et  inquietum  est  cor  nostrum,  donee  requiescat 
in  Te. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

Preface, 3 

Halloween. 5 

Notes  to  Halloween, 64 

Lays,  Meditative  and  Devotional,  ...  67 

Dedication, 69 

Preface, 71 

Give  me  the  Hour, 73 

Hymn  of  the  Wreath, •    .  75 

Star  that  Hast, 78 

Scanzas,      ...... 81 

Canzonet, 82 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  Land, 83 

Song, 84 

Canzonet, 85 

Caution, 87 

Oh  Where  ;s  the  Hope," 87 

Canzonet. 89 

I;ve  Left  the  Giddy  Throng, 91 

March, 93 

Lake  Byrom, 95 

fetanzas, •     .  96 

Lament, 98 

The  Zenaida  Dove, 101 


188  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Remember, 103 

Christmas, 104 

Oh  Would  I  were  happy, 106 

The  Mirage, 108 

Meditation, 109 

Lines, 110 

Hymn, Ill 

Hymn, 113 

Home  Music, 114 

To  all  that 's  Glorious  and  Bright, 116 

There  is  a  Land, 118 

The  Heart's  Song, 120 

Lament, 121 

In  Radiance  He  came, 122 

Lament  of  the  Virgins, 125 

The  Last  Plague  of  Egypt, 128 

Hymn  to  the  Redeemer, 131 

Stanzas, 134 

Stanzas, 135 

But  Thou,  oh  Lord, 136 

Verses, 137 

Still  as  our  Day, 137 

There  's  not  a  Cloud, 139 

Oh  Walk  with  God, 140 

The  Land  of  Beulah, 142 

Hymn  in  Holy  Week, 143 

Hymn, 145 

Mariner's  Hymn, 147 

Little  Hymn, 148 


CONTEXTS.  189 

Page. 

Thy  Glory,  Lord, I 

Hymn  for  the  Dead, 151 

The  First  Psalm, 152 

Our  God  in  Glory, 153 

When  Israel  from  the  Land  of  Nile,     ....  155 

Right  Glad  was  I, 156 

Orisons, 157 

Advent  Hymn, •    .  160 

Not  Unto  us, 163 

Thee,  God,  we  Praise, 164 

A  Lent  Hymn, 167 

Stanzas  for  Eastertide, 168 

Hymn  for  Holy  Thursday, 170 

Hymn  for  Trinity  Sunday, 171 

Let  out  thy  Soul, 173 

Watchwords, 176 

Holy  Orders, 178 

Notes, 183 


H.    S.    PARSONS 

Has  for  sale,  by  the  author  of  Halloween, 

ATHANASION, 

Second  Edition,  with  Notes. 
Also  will  publish  shortly,  in  uniform  with  Halloween, 

CHRISTIAN     BALLADS, 

Second  Edition,  with  Additions. 

,*,  Several  poems  published  with  the  former  edi- 
tion of  the  Ballads,  have  been  retained  in  their 
proper  places,  among  the  Lays  published  with  Hal- 
loween, as  they  will  not  again  be  printed  with  the 
Ballads. 

Also,  H.  S.  P.  has  in  press, 

ANCIENT  HYMNS  OF  HOLY  CHURCH, 

BY 

J.  WILLIAMS,  M.  A., 
Rector  of  St.  George's,  Schenectady. 


